THE RAVEN 




A Play 



Four Acts and a Tableau, 



by 

GEORGE C. HAZELTON, Jr., 

AUTHOR OF 

"Mistress Nell", "The National Capitol", etc. 



"How can so strange and so fine a genius^ and so 
sad a life, be exprest and comprest in one line?" 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 



New York. 
190^ 



PE0PE5RTY OF 
fStfe IS3RAEY OF CONGRB^ 



THE RAVEN 



A Play 



in Four Acts and a Tableau, 



by 

GEORGE C. HAZELTON, Jr., 



AUTHOR OF 

]J7 It ' 



Mistress Nell", "The National Capitol", etc. 



" How can so strange and so fine a genius, and so 
sad a life, be exprest and comprest in one line?" 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 



New York. 
190^ 



WOfBEt^ OF 



P5 3515 



LIBRAHY of CONGRESS 
Two Cupies Received 

APR 11 1904 

t, ^ Copyrisht Etiiry 

CLASS/^ XXo. No. 
' %bpY B 



Copyright, 1903, 

by 

GEORGE C. HAZELTON, Jr. 



(All rights of publication and production strictly reserved) 



DRAMATIS PERSONM 

JOHN ALLAN. 

EDGAR ALLAN POE, his adopted son. 

ROSCOE PELHAM, A. M., Allan's secretary. 

TONY PRESTON, Poe's friend. 

PARSON PRIME. 

CARROLL BRENT. 

WILLIAM PIDGEON. 

EREBUS. 

MRS. (Dolly) PIDGEON. 

MRS. ALLAN. 

MRS. CLEMM. 

MARJARY- 

VIRGINIA CLEMM. » 
HELEN WHITMAN. \ 

Act. I. Lawn before John Allan's home near Rich- 
mond, Virginia. 

Act II. Sitting room in Poe's cottage, Fordham, New- 
York. 

Tableau. The Writing of "The Raven." 
Act. III. 

Scene I. — Hall in Helen Whitman's country house 
near Fordham. 

Scene II. — Country-lane by High Bridge. 
Scene III. — Churchyard at night. 
Act IV. Garret, Baltimore. 



ACT I. 

Scene: Lawn before John Allan's house, Rich- 
mond, Virginia. Landscape backing. Wooden fence 
{snake fence) from R. J/, to L. 2, and down to L. 1. 
Gates C. Stile L. 3. Set house {Colonial) R. 3. Steps. 
Set tree R. 3. E. Rustic seat in front of tree. Rustic 
bench L. ^. Round rustic table R. of bench R. C. 
Rocking chair R. Log up L. C. Small table and chair 
down R. Mr. and Mrs. Allan discovered, drinking tea 
under trees. Negroes heard singing in distance. 

ALLAN. {Seated on bench R. C. Song dies aioay.) 
I tell you, my dear, it is your fault. Now, that ends it, 
once for all. 

MRS. ALLAN. {Seated in rocking chair R.) Just 
as you say, John. I have had all the faults of the 
family for thirty-one years, but I am still the " better- 
half". Have another dish of tea, John? 

ALLAN. No, it's weak. The fault was in adopt- 
ing the boy at first. It was bad stock, bad stock ; and 
you should have known it, my dear. 

MRS. ALLAN. John, you know you have said a 
thousand times that the Poes came of the best blood in 
the land. 

ALLAN. I said the boy's grandfather was a good 
man, my dear. General Poe was a patriot, a patriot, a 
friend of Washington. Lafayette visited his grave be- 
fore he left the country, knelt and kissed the sod, ex- 
claiming with tears in his eyes, " Here lies a noble 
heart." I said the Poes came of the best blood — way 
back, my dear, way back. 

MRS. ALLEN. Two generations. {Rises and puts 
tea cup on table.) 



ALLAN". Well, two generations is — two generations. 

MRS. ALLAN. {Placing her hand on his shoulder.) 
Yon remember, John, the day I took you to the poor 
dead mother's room ? She had died, John, a stranger 
in a strange land, a beautiful actress, struggling nobly 
in her art to keep the wolf from the door and from her 
little ones. A child was clinging to this mother's arm. 
He called her in the sweetest baby voice, and put out 
his dimpled hands to her. She did not answer, John. 
His big brown eyes were full of tears. You remember, 
John, how the raven curls tossed wildly upon his pretty 
temples ? God had given us no children of our own, 
John, — well, you brought the baby here. You gave 
him a home and yoar name. 

ALLAN. I don't remember any such thing. You are 
growing old. You forget, my dear, you forget. I have 
noticed it for some time. You are losing your faculties, 
I fear. 

MRS. ALLAN. You are losing your heart, John. 

ALLAN. {Rises ; crosses L. Mrs. Allan sits R.) 
I am losing my patience. He gambles away my money 
like a song and then comes back with his roguish eye 
and blandly calls for more. {Ad^vances to L. C.) 

MRS. ALLAN. And you give it to him, John. 

ALLAN. That's it; lay it all at my door. Just like 
a woman. By George, you have ruined the boy, posi- 
tively ruined him. I'll make a man of him or kill him. 
That's the only way to raise boys. He must not be 
coddled ; he must obey. {Advances to table.) 

MRS. ALLAN. [Rises.) Then you should have 
begun that way years ago. 

ALLAN. And you have encouraged his infatuation 
for his cousin Virginia against my pronounced wishes, 
my dear. It must be stopped. 



MRS. ALLAN. His love we cannot control, John. 
That is the Province of God, not man. 

ALLAN. {Crosses to R. Mrs. Allan crosses to R. 0.) 
Love ! I will not hear such bosh. 

MRS. ALLAN. Virginia is a beautiful girl and 
worthy of a prince. 

ALLAN. Tush ! I know the girl for Edgar. An 
alliance, {Crosses up R. of table.) my dear, an 
alliance ; no love nonsense. Unite two fortunes to back 
the boy's brains, and he will own the State, become a 
great leader, a politican of some use to his country. I 
never believed much in love. {Crosses to L.) 

MRS. ALLAN. {Crosses to C.) You told me once you 
did, John, quite vehemently. 

ALLAN. {Sits L.) Times have changed, my dear. I 
had the faults of a boy then. 

MRS. ALLAN. You have the faults of a man now. 
I prefer those of the boy. {To bench and sits.) Edgar 
loves Virginia. I am sure of it. Love is the strongest 
fibre of his being. You cannot eradicate it. 

ALLAN. Nonsense, I adopted him, he is my boy, 
he's all wrong ; and I will correct him or have done 
with him. There ! {Negroes cross up stage., returning 
from the fitld^ and exeunt saying: ^'^ Good night, 
Marsa.''"' '•'Good night. Missus.^'' " Whereas Mars'* 
EdgahT' ''Say 'Good night' 'to Mars' Edgah."" 
" Good night fo' Mars' Edgah."" etc.) 

MRS. ALLAN. {Rises and up C.) See, John, every 
one on the place loves him. They would not change 
" Mars' Edgah." 

ALLAN. {Rises.) Ha ! He is not half so dear to 
them as he is to me. They do not have to pay his bills. 
{Goes up L. C.) 

MRS. ALLAN. Are you going far, my dear ? 



ALLAN. I am going down the street. I want room 
to think. 

MRS. ALLAN. {L. of Allan ; putting lier hand on 
Ms sJioulder fondly .) Then think of this, John: the 
old grandfather you spoke so hi2;hly of, but now, had 
worldly notions like yours, John. Yet, you remember, 
his boy turned his back on home to follow the fortunes 
of the girl he loved. He threw away a career, the pres- 
tige of his name, his home, his friends ; he became a 
strolling player, to be at that sweetheart's side. He 
was true to his love till death divorced him. Have a 
care, John. That boy was Edgar's father, {Exit into 
house.) 

ALLAN. Sentimential bosh ! I've given him one 
more chance to straighten up ; and it shall be the last. 
{Calls after her.) Mrs. Allan, Mrs. Allan ! {Hesitates ; 
then returns O.) My wife never did understand men. 
By the Lord Harry, the boy, needs making over ; that's 
what he needs ; and I'll do it or — {Eater Pelham R. 3. 
E. Stands looking on unobserved.) 

EREBUS. {Enters from L. 2 E.) Where is Mars' 
Edgah, Marsa ? 

ALLAN. [Crosses to C.) Oh, go to the devil. {Exit 
C.) 

EREBUS. {Bowing.) Yes, sah. 

FELHAM. {Runs into Erebus.) Where are you 
going ? 

EREBUS. Todedebble, sah ; but I got dar bef o' I 
'spected. 

PELHAM. Whose niggah are you ? 

EREBUS. Mars' Edgah' s, sah. 

PELHAM. Ah, Master Edgar's, are you ? 

EREBUS. Yes, sah, he done bought me, sah. 



6 

PELHAM. Oh, he bought you, did lie ? 

EREBUS. Yes, sah. Mars' Johnson was murderin' 
me wid de black snake, sah, an' de good Lord sen' Mars' 
Edgah to save me, sail. Mars' Edgali don' bought me 
fo' six hundred dollars, sah. 

PELHAM. {Crossing to house steps ; stands looking 
in.) Grenerous, wasn't he, with the Grovernor's money ? 

EREBUS. {L. C.) 'Deed he was, sah. 

PELHAM. {Looking at Erebus critically.) What is 
your name ? 

EREBUS. {Frightened.) Dunno, sah. 

PELHAM. Who was your father ? 

EREBUS. Fo' de Lord, Marsa, I don' forget de gem- 
man's name. 

PELHAM. Oh ! 

EREBUS. Mars' Johnson call me, " Dat damn nigga,h, 
sah"; but Mars' Edgah he call me " Mr. Erebus," sah. 

PELHAM. {Crossing to Erebus.) So Mr. Edgar 
calls you Erebus, Prince of Darkness, does he ; quite 
clever of him. 

EREBUS. Yes, sah, an' he calls me his "valley", 
sah. 

PELHAM. {Crossing to L.) He needs a troop of 
valets to look after him. Well, Mr. Erebus, you may 
get me a glass of milk and some crackers. 

EREBUS. Yes, sah. {A.nde.) Mars' Edgah nebber 
ask fo' no milk. 

PELHAM. Hurry up there. 

EREBUS. I'se gwine, sah. {Exit into house.) 

PELHAM. {Sits L.) So Virginia had an engage- 
ment, had she ? Could not see me this afternoon. No 
doubt, taking a siesta so she could sit up and count the 
stars with our handsome si)endlhrift to-night. A ro- 



mantic pop-in-jay who writes bad verses — a Byronic 
genius, bah ! Her veranda is so pretty, tind these nights 
are so enchanting there. We'll wait — the fool will 
hang himself in time — just a little time. The Gov- 
ernor has stood it a good while ; but it will end, and 
then Miss Virginia may sit in the moonlight with the 
beggar nntil — 

EREBUS. {Enters at cue ^^ moonllqliV and places 
tray on table R.) Dar's yo' milk and crackers. Mars' 
Pelham. 

PELHAM. {Grosses to tahle.) Hem. What makes 
you look so black ? 

EREBUS. T reckon de good Lord, Mars' Pelham. 
{Pelham sits at tahle and eats. Erebus crosses at 
back, goes up and looks off L. C, then comes down L 3 
and looks off\ shaking his head and mumbling . Pel- 
ham looks around at him.) 

PELHAM. What is the matter ? Do you hear ? 

EREBUS. I'se powerful feared fo' Mars' Edgah. 

PELHAM. He needs your solicitude and prayers. 

EREBUS. Somethin' turrible's gwine to happen. 
When I went fo' de milk, I stub my toe free times ; an' 
when I'se gwine to milk Ole Brindle, Mars' Edgah's 
cow, dis morning, she don' dried up. 

PELHAM. That's most prophetic ! Where is your 
young master ? 

EREBUS. Dunno, sah. He don' ride away wid 
Mars' Tony Preston las' night an' I nebber put eyes on 
him sence. {Ooes up L. and sitsonlog. Falls asleep.) 

PELHAM. Probably he was ashamed to come home. 
{Enter Allan C. and down L. 0. with letters in his 
hand.) 

ALLAN. That boy will drive me to the poorhouse. 
Bills, bills, bills ; nothing but bills ! Wine, horses and 



8 

cards from morning till night ! By George, I won't 
stand it any longer. My mind is set. He shall go, bag 
and baggage. Ah, Pelham ! 

PELHAM. (Rises.) Has anything gone wrong, 
sir? Can't I 

ALLAN. Grone wrong, gone wrong ! I will be a 
bankrupt, sir, if that boy keeps on. Here is a letter 
asking for $600 for some late extravagance. 

PELHAM. [Aside.) Erebus! He will come around 
all right, Mr. Allan. He is only sowing his wild oats, 
sir. 

ALLAN. Wild oats, sir ! I reckon he has sowed a 
gopd many acres of them since I was fool enough to 
give him a home. (Crosses to H.) 

PELHAM. But he is so brilliant, so handsome, and 
such an honor to the family, sir, if I may be allowed 

ALLAN. He was such a promising fellow when I 
adopted him — such a promising fellow. I loved him, 
sir ; yes, I loved him, and do still ; but there is an end 
to everything. At the University he disgraced himself 
and me by his mad conduct. I forgave him — to please 
my wife. Dismissed from West Point, I took him to 
my heart and home again. I have paid his debts and 
paid his debts, and here it is again, sir ; and you see, 
sir — you see — there is my mail, Pelham. You will 
please attend to it, sir. That boy will drive me to the 
grave. (Exits into house.) 

PELHAM. Nothing will make a man surer that he 
is right than to cross him gently. Miss Virginia may 

yet prefer a poor secretary with some expectations to 

Erebus ! 

EREBUS. (Wakening and coining down L.C) Yes, 
sah ; yes, sah ! 



9 

PELHAM. So you are worried about Mr. Edgar, are 
yon? 

EREBUS. Yes, sah. {Pelham gives 7iim small fee.) 
Thank yo', Marsa ; thank yo', sah. 

PELHAM. Your master spends a good part of his 
leisure at his fair cousin's, eh ? 

EREBUS. Dunno, sah. 

PELHAM. Stupid. He sends you with the messages 
and flowers, eh ? Come, what have you seen ? Out 
with it, and not a word about my asking. 

EREBUS. Nothin', Marsa, nothin'. 

PELHAM. Black liar ! Wake up or I'll break every 
bone in your infernal body. {About to strike Erebus 
with, his cane.) 

EREBUS. Don' strike. Mars' Pelham, don' strike 
me, sah. 

PELHAM. Then answer my question, 

EREBUS. Fo' God, I don' know, Mars' Pelham. 

PELHAM. {Offers again to strike him.) Answer, 
slave. 

POE. {Ofi L. E. U.) Here, enough of that ! {Enters, 
wearing long cloak., riding boots and spurs. Tony 
follows.) Fair play, Pelham, fair play! {Comes be- 
tween them C.) Here, make a ring, Tony. General 
Pelham and Judge Erebus are about to fight it out. 

TONY. Wait a minute ! I call time until Erebus 
brings the referees a little something to tone up the 
judgment. {Sits L. Pelham takes glass of milk and 
letters ; goes R. and sits.) 

POE. {Standing 0.) Good ! Quick, Erebus, to the 
cellar with you and bring us some of the Governor's 
best. We have had a hard gallop. Do you hear, some 
of the choicest. 



10 

EEEBUS. Yes, Mars' Edgah, I'se got it waitin' fo' 
yo'. {Crosses and hack and exits into the house.) 

TONY. {L. C.) Look at Pelham ! He is drinking 
.milk ! Ha, ha, lia ! A man that will drink milk is 
lost, irrevocably lost. 

POE. Tony, don't be critical. 

PELHAM. Tn this world, Mr. Preston, a man's 
capabilities are not judged by the liquor he drinks. 

POE. But his capacity is, Pelham. Each man to his 
taste. For myself, I can't drink milk — my digestion 
won't allow it. 

TONY. And I can't drink water on account of my 
iron constitution. {He-enter Erebus with tray, bottle, 
water and glasses, which he places on table R. C.) 

POE. Come, Tony, we'll lower these spirits to raise 
our own. {Both laugh.) You look disconsolate, Ere- 
bus. What is the matter with you ? 

EREBUS. A little touch obhigh life, I reckon, Mars' 
Edgah. {Exit L. C.) 

POE. High life ! Ha, ha, ha ! Come, drink with us, 
Mr. Pelham. Come, we will have a milk punch. While 
you drink the milk, we will drink the — punch, eh, 
Tony ? 

PELHAM. I think it would be wiser for you to join 
me, sir. I have just been defending you at some risk 
to myself, sir. 

POE. What, is the Governor in another whirlwind ? 
Dear old Dad ! He will worry so about nothing. I 
have told him that I can stop whenever I want to. Now, 
Tony, {Crosses to Tony with glass ) I leave it to you : 
If a man can't stop, there is some use of his stopping ; 
but, when he can, where is the use ? 

TONY. I don't see myself ; but this is a digression. 
Here's to you, Mr. Pelham. 



11 

POE. Hold ! 

TONY. Pelham hasn't any objection to my drinking 
tiis health, has he? 

POE. Not a drop on your life until you drink to the 
fairest flower of the South, Virginia Clemm ! 

BOTH. {Standing.) Virginia Clemm ! 

TONY. Ye Gods, I'll drink nine glasses to her. 
{Drink.) 

POE. Well, Tony, how do you like the first glass ? 
TONY. {Reoerses empty gtass. Sadly.) Hush, I 
never speak ill of the dead. 

POE. 'Tis the Governor's best vintage, I promise 
you. I've sampled them all. 

TONY. It has a taste on the tongue I like. {Crosses 
to table R. C. Poe to L.) Another drop, please ; even a 
glass looks better full. Why don't you join us, Mr. 
Pelham ? What, refuse to toast the fair Virginia ? 
Rumor says you had a fond eye for her once yourself. 

POE. Yes, Pelham, they tell me you are my most 
dangerous rival. 

PELHAM. Indeed, I was not aware I was so fortu- 
nate {Reading letter. Aside.) Hello, what is this? 
A letter the Governor has overlooked. Whew ! a bill 
for $1,600,— a gambling debt contracted at College. 
The last straw. ( Virginia sings off L. 3 E.) 

POE. See, Tony, see, a vision of beauty ! Come, 
marshal the zephyrs, draw back the curtains of the sky, 
still the music of the streams, bid the great elms bow 
their crested heads ; Virginia comes, — behold and listen ! 
( Virginia enters oner stile L. 3 E., Poe helping her., a 
crown., woven of wild flowers^ in her hand.) Enchant- 
ress, we welcome thee. 

VIRGINIA. {Crossing Poe to C.) You will not sue 



12 

me for trespassing. Cousin Edgar ? I am a lone woman 
entering a den of lions, and no Daniel to protect me. 

TONY. {O.) I'll be your Daniel, Miss Virginia. 

POE. {L.) What beast would harm th(^ wild rose ? 

VIRGINIA. Flatterer. 

POE. {Mock heroically.) Afraid? " In a nation of 
gallant men, in a nation of men of honor and of cava- 
liers ! I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped 
from their scabbards to avenge even a look that 
threatened her with insult ! " 

TONY. Bravo ! Bravo ! 

VIRGINIA. Aptly quoted for one who never wore a 
sword. 

PELHAM. Who is the gallant. Miss Virginia, to re- 
ceive your crown of wild flowers ? 

VIRGINIA. {Crosses to Felham. Tony near Poe.) 
What, this ? isn't it pretty ? I gathered these by the 
path through the woods. Why, this crown goes to the 
cavalier who would be the bravest if this were a verita 
ble lion's den. Conae, gentlemen, tell me, what would 
you do? (C.) 

TONY. I reckon I'd ask the lion to take a little 
something. 

POE. {Crosses to L. corner.) 1 reckon I'd take to ray 
heels pretty lively. {General laugh.) 

VIRGINIA. And you, Mr. Pelham? 

PELHAM. Oh, Miss Virginia, I wish the test were 
here, that you might know where sits the truest heart 
and bravest hand. I would flght until the ruby drops — 

VIRGINIA. Oh, Mr. Pelham ! Your valor would 
ooze out before the ruby drops, I fear, and yoa would 
take to your heels before Tony could extend his invita- 
tion or Edgar scale the fence. No, Truth is its own re- 
ward. Edgar is the victor. 



13 

POE. But, you forget, mine would have been a run- 
ning fight. 

VIRGrlNIA. Discretion is the better part of valor. 

POE. {Crosses to her ; kneels. Tony down L.) I 
bend the knee, fair queen. 

VIRGINIA. I crown thee, Edgar, my champion pro- 
tector, Knight of my Heart. {Crowns Poe with wreath 
of flowers.) 

POE. I kiss thy hand, sweet sovereign. {Playfully 
kisses her hand repeatedly.) 

VIRGINIA. That will do. Arise, sir knight ! 

POE. {Crosses to Pelham R., Virginia to Tony L.) 
How like you my coronation, Brother Pelham ? Was 
ever prince more nobly crowned ? 

PELHAM. I have no leisure for this child's play, 
Mr. Poe. Good evening. {Exits into house.) 

TONY. The angel has shut one lion's mouth with a 
bang. {General laugh.) 

POE. Yes, you have vanquished one lion, Virginia, 
and not with love. 

TONY. Hello ! Only three of us left ? I cannot 
stand this. I reckon I better go for your glove. Did 
you not forget your fan ? That must be your kerchief 
down the path. Don't you understand? Where are 
your wits ? Send me for your salts, a glass of water — 
anything ! 

VIRGINIA. Oh, you horrid fellow. 

TONY. For staying so long? Hello, there goes my 
horse ! I must after him. You are so sorry he got 
away. Yes ; oh, yes ; I know ! Whoa, Charger ; whoa 
there, whoa ! {Exit, running and laughing, L. 2 E.) 

POE. He is a merry boy. Quick, one kiss, Virginia. 

VIRGIN I A . ( Taking crown from Poe and crossing 
R.) No ; no more kisses. 



14 

POE. Refuse me a kiss, one kiss, a paltry kiss ! 
What, a niggard of a kiss ! The zephyrs playing in your 
glossy curls rob you of them every day you live, as they 
lovingly pass by, and you never say them "Nay"; 
the sunbeams wrest them from your lips to feed the 
daisies with ; they are silvered by the moonbeams on a 
summer's night; the joyous song, bursting into bloom 
between these love-lips, breathes millions of kisses into 
life. Why, worse than the horder of the mountains' 
gold, or the grey-beard tottering to a lonely grave, 
clutching as some drowning man the jewels of a selfish 
life, is the miser of a kiss. 

VIRGINIA. I think I will keep my kisses for all that. 
Your philosophy may suit some other girl who does not 
know you. {Sits R.) 

POE. Sweet Virginia, what is a kiss to you or me, if 
kept ? It has no being. 'Tis useless to the owner's lips ; 
while a fair exchange makes both more rich by the 
barter of such merchandise. 

VIRGINIA. Oh, my kisses are not rich unless ex- 
changed for yours? A man's conceit. 

POE. No, I do not mean . {Going L.) Well, keep 

them. I can live without them. 

VIRGINIA. {Rises and follows). Indeed ! How 
long ? 

POE. A second ! {He attempts to kiss her ; site 
laughingly crosses to bench). Virginia, we are wasting 
time. They will all be back and then I must wait until 
the moon is up. 

VIRGINIA. {Sits L.) The moon. {Laughs.) Oh, she 
is a formidable rival. 

POE. How so? 

VIRGINIA. Why, is not the Queen of Night the 
mistress of all poets? t hope it was she who claimed 
you last night. 



15 

POE, No, truth to tell, no spirit-body claimed me 
last night. I was with Tony. 

VIIiGINIA. With Tony ? And you are sure no 
spirits — 

POE. Virginia, you must learn not to ask such fool- 
ish questions. 

YIRGrlNIA. How did you spend the evening ? Come, 
confess. 

POE. Telling fortunes. 

VIRGINIA. With cards? 
• POE. Nay, love, reading your fortune, my fortune, 
in the stars. 

VIRGINIA. Pm sorry. {Sighs.) 

POE. Why? {Sits hy her.) 

VIRGINIA. That 'tis not starlight now that you 
might read my fortune. 

POE. Stars are not necessary ; for 

" The brightness of her cheek would shame those 

stars 
" As daylight doth a lamp." 

VIRGINIA. Begin, astrologer, begin. My fortune 
was told but yesterday. I'll see if you confirm it. 

POE. Who told it? 

VIRGINIA. A gypsy. He was very handsome, too. 

POE. No doubt. What did he tell ? 

VIRGINIA. He mentioned a dark gallant who was 
desperately in love with me, and another who was likely 
to become a very dangerous rival. 

POE. Perhaps he meant Pelham. Ha, ha, ha ! 
Come, sit very still, {Rises and crosses back of her) 
and I'll convince you that I am a prince of necromancy. 
Do not be frightened as I cast the horoscope. ( Vir- 



16 

ginia laughs.) Hush ! If you laugh, you will destroy 
the spell. You see, I take my kerchief so : {Meas- 
uring.) 

From eye to chin 
It is too thin ; 
From eye to ear, 
Much I fear ; 
Beneath the eyes, 
The prize all lies. 

{Poe covers her eyes loith his handkerchief in meas- 
uring and quickly kisses her. Tony enters L. °2 E. 
Virginia rises., confused ; crosses R. Poe R. C.) 

TONY. Whoa, there, whoa ! I reckon I caught my 
horse too soon. I came back to say good-bye. I 
really must go this time. Mother does not know I'm 
out. 

POE. What is your hurry, Tony ? Oh, you need not 
fear. There is nothing more to see. — Is there, Virginia ? 
Ha, ha, ha ! You are not de trop, Tonj^ — Is he 
Virginia ? 

VIRGINIA. [Crosses up C. to be/ich.) Tony de 
trop ? Of course not. I wish he had come sooner. 

TONY. Oh, no. I am not de trop. It is the 
lovers who are always de trop in this world. That 
is the reason they leave the earth for little pilgrimages 
among the clouds. 

VIRtrlNIA. {Playfully hitting him. ) Hard-hearted 
scoffer ! {Grosses to L.). 

POE. I must buy your silence if it takes tlie Gover- 
nor's last drop. Here, fill a stirrup-cup ! 

TONY. {Crossing to table R. C. Virginia sits L.) 
Don't force me or I shall have to yield. None of our 
family ever could say "No," — but that's a digression. 
Fill, fill ! Here's to my sweetheart ! 

POE and VIRGINIA. Your sweetheart, Tony ! 



17 

TONY. Have you not heard? I thought everyone 
knew that. 

POE and VIRGIISIA. Who is she, Tony ? 

TONY. Merry Whiskey! {Takes up bottle. General 
laugh.) There's a figure for you ! {Talks to dotUe lov- 
ingly.) Show me a. more swan-like neck or a sweeter 
pucker to the lips. We have our lovers' quarrels, too ; 
but they are short. Father objects to our union. 8uh 
rosa, he's in love with her himself. Oh, Merry, you 
are the dearest love a man ever had, so soothing, so con- 
fiding, so demonstrative. I am never so happy as when 
we are together. Sweet one, you inspire me with new 
life and hope. My veins leap for joy at your approach. 
I swear Merry Whiskey shall never know so true a 
lover as Tony Preston ! ( Tony and Poe shake hands 
as they sing., near table., Tom Mooters ^''Drinking 
8ong^\ Air — ''' Paddy Snap'' \ Yirglnia applauds 
heartily. ) 

" Quick ! We have but a second, 
Fill round the cup, while you may ; 
For Time, the churl, hath beckon' d. 
And we must away, away! 
Grasp the pleasure that's flying, 
For Oh, not Orpheus' strain 
Could keep sweet hours from dying, 
Or charm them to life again. 
Then, quick ! we have but a second. 
Fill round the cup, while you may ; 
For Time, the churl, hath beckon' d 
And we must away, away ! 

" See the glass, how it flushes. 
Like some young Hebe's lip ; 
And half meets thine and blushes 
That thou shouldst delay to sip. 
Shame, oh shame unto thee, 
If ever thou seest that day. 
When a cup or lip shall woo thee, 



18 

And turn untouched away ! 
Then quick ! we have but a second, 
Fill round, fill round, while you may ; 
For Time, the churl, hath beckon' d, 
And we must away, away !" 

ALLAN". {Outside.) No, no, no ! 

PELHAM. {Outside.) Do not be too hard, Mr. Allan. 
I may have been mistaken, sir. 

ALLAN. {Enters from house, followed by PeUtam. 
As they o.ppear, Tony goes down hack of bench L. Poe 
down L. C. Virginia seated.) No, no, no! Don't 
excuse him, sir. In everything, he has opposed my 
will. 

POE. Ah, father, come to join our revel ? 

ALLAN. You scamp! {Virginia rises.) You have 
had your last revel here. ( Virginia makes a movement 
towards Allan. Poe stops her. ) 

POE. Father, Cousin Virginia is i)resent. Let us 
settle any misunderstanding some time when we are 
alone. 

ALLAN. The world may witness my final resolution, 
sir. {Enter Mrs. Allan, who advances to rocking chair 
R.) 1 have endured your prodigalities as long as I can. 
You must leave this place at once. I disinherit you. 
{Takes R. corner. Virginia crosses to Mrs. Allan. 
Enter Erebus L. C; remains up L.) 

MRS. ALLAN. John, what are you saying? {Vir- 
ginia kneels by her.) 

POE. Do you mean this, father ? 

ALLAN. {Crossing back to C.) Father me no more. 
I was your benefactor, your father, until you so often 
proved unworthy of my love. I gave you everything, 
even to my name. Read this, sir, read this. {Banding 
Poe letter. ) 



19 

POE. {Reading:) A bill for $1,600 ! Well, I ac- 
knowledft-e it. At least, I never hide my faults. 

ALLAN. Oh, 'tis not merely this ; 'tis everything 
combined. You oppose my will ; you upset the rules 
of my house ; you cross me in everything ; the high 
aspirations I had for yoa, you have blighted ; you spend 
your hours with dissolute companions 

POE. Father! 

MRS. ALLAN. John ! {Rises. Virginia rises and 
crosses to R. of Mrs. Allan. ) 

ALLAN. {Grossing to L.) You will drive me mad. 
{Turns upon Foe.) You must go, sir; do you hear? 
Collect your traps, everything that belongs to you. 
Not another day shall you spend beneath my roof. 
Here is some money for a new start, and Grod go with 
you. 

POE. {Refuses purse.) No, Mr. Allan ! I could ac- 
cept kindness from you as a son, but as a stranger 
never. You bid me leave the only home 1 have ever 
kaown, the only father I remember. It is well. I would 
be loo ungrateful not to obey your wish. I will not say 
your command. Nor will I attempt to justify myself, 
sir, further than to say that I believe you do me wrong. 
You brought me up a child of luxury ; wine flowed in 
fountains at your table ; I was not taught what money 
meant ; my associates were gay, and you laughed at my 
boyish follies. I have done wrong, sir, very wrong ; but 
am I all to blame? {Allan, sits L.) Give me your 
hand, sir. You will not deny me that. {Allan half 
gives Jiand. Face averted.) A good-bye for you and 
the sweer one who took my mother's place. {^Embraces 
Mrs. Allan.) 

MRS. ALLAN. Edgar! 

POE. Mother ! Heaven bless you both, and grant 



20 

that you may live to know that the little orphan boy 
you gave a home has a memory and a heart. I go alone 

into the vporld {Takes liat and cloak and starts 

up O.) 

EREBUS. {Softly.) Not alon', Mars' Edgah ! 
{Kneels to Foe.') 

VIRGINIA. {Grossing to Mm.) No, Edgar, not 
alone ! 

ALL. Virginia ! 

POE, Reflect ! I am an outcast ! 

VIRGINIA. And I love you. {They eiribrace.) 

POE. Then, come, sweet girl, we will build a home 
for ourselves. 

(curtain.) 



21 

ACT II. 

Scene : Sitting room in Foe's cottage, Fordham. N 
Y. Door L. C. to street ; R. '2 and L. 3 to other 
rooms. Sm^all stove and, wood box np R. Table G. 
Very plain interior " laid loith checked matting, 
a light stand witli presentation volumes of the Brown- 
ings on it, some other sheloes with a few other books 
arranged on them, and four chairs.'''' One or two small 
house plants., a bird in a cage, a cot, L. C, and an old 
military cloak hanging against the wall. Snow scene 
through window R. C. Virginia discovered at loindow 
poorly clad. Curtain music, ^"Home Sweet Home^\ 
Lights up. 

Some Years After Act I. 

VIRGINIA. {Looking off R. Coughs.) Even the 
dear old cherry tree looks hungry and forlorn in its 
garb of ice and snow. Will the sun ever warm its 
heart again and the robins sing in its branches, and 
Edgar and I sit beneatli its shade and dream the hours 
away in happiness ? The spring seems so far off. {Enter 
Mrs. Clemnc. L.) Hush, mother ; you will disturb 
Edgar. 

MRS. CLEMM. A good morning to my daugliter. I 
did not know that yon were up. {Kisses her.) And 
how is Eddie ? 

VIRGINIA. {Crosses to door L. U. E. Mrs. Clemm 
puts shawl on chair L. Slips roll of MSS. ontable R., 
unobserved by Virginia. Comes down R. C.) He has 
been working all night and he acts so wild and strange 
it frightens me. Once or twice I stole into the room, 
but he would only stare at me wiih liis deep, sad eyes, 
run his hands wildly through his hair and plunge again 



22 

into Ills work. It breaks my heart, mother dear. 
{Going to Mrs. Glemm.) 

MRS. CLEMM. Poor Eddie ! The darkest cloud has 
a silver lining, child. You must be brave. 

VIRGINIA. I try to look happy and laugh when the 
road is roughest, mother. Edgar's pen runs night and 
day and you know how meagre the reward. {Crosses 
R. Sits.) What have we left for dinner ? 

MRS. CLEMM. {At cup board L. 1.) Scarcely enough 
for one. 

VIRGINIA. Do not tell Edgar. He has so much to 
bear. And the fire ? {Erebus passes windoio. ) 

MRS. CLEMM. Here is Erebus now with an arm full. 

EREBUS. {Entering L. G. with armful of small 
twigs and sticks.) Don' yo' worry, Miss Virginiah. 
We'll soon hab a fire — boo ! {Throwing down sticks.) 
I don' likedis yarNew York State fo' notliin'. Gib me 
ole Virginiah 1 

NYRQINIA. {Smiling.) Why, Erebus? 

EREBUS. Fo' de Lord, honey, it pears like up yah 
dars nine months ob winter and free months ob damn 
late fall. 

VIRGINIA. Erebus— What are you saying? 

EREBUS. Pardon, Miss Virginiah, dat 'flection jes' 
slip out. {Exit L. O.) 

VIRGINIA. {Trying to laugh ; to Mrs. Clemm, who 
is momny sticks. ) Save those to cook his dinner, but 
do not let him know. I am not very cold, 

MRS. CLEMM. You angel ! 

VIRGINIA. Oh, why will the world slander Edgar, 
mother? We know and love him. We are right. 
{Coughs.) 

MRS. CLEMM. You are not well, Virginia. A little 



23 

patience. {She helps Virginia to chair, and sits beside 
her. ) 

VIRGINIA. I am patient for myself, but Edgar ! 
He is so proud, noble, ambitious : and the wordly 
struggle, the insults and mockeries of common natures 
afflict him deeply. 

MRS. CLEMM. The world is slow to recognize a 
genius ; but, when his words are known to his country's 
lire side lore, imprinted in the people's hearts, nothing 
can shake them. We should be proud of Edgar, truly. 
{Music.') 

VIRGrlNIA. I am proud of Edgar, mother, proud of 
his great gifts. {Enter Foe L. U. E. with quill pen 
over ear, and long MS. rolled up in his hand.) It 
shows that he is loved of God ; but I did not know, 
when I threw myself into his arms that day in Rich- 
mond to meet the great world hand in hand, how tlie 
struggle would be all for him and what a burden I 
would be. 

POE. {Coming down L. to Virginia.) And what a 
blessing. 

VIRGINIA. Oh, Edgar, how you frightened me. 

POE. {Cheerfully.) Come, what are these long faces 
for ? Poor child, these lips were made for smiles and 
kisses. 

VIRGINIA. Oh, Edgar, even your jest is sickly. It 
is you who have the pale and careworn face. Has he 
not, mother ? 

MRS. CLEMM. {Crosses to chair R. corner, takes 
needlework from mantlepiece and busies herself.) It's 
those old goose quills. 

POE. {Crossing, places MS. on table R.) Hush, 
Mother Clemm, that's sacrilage. The world's best wis- 
dom has run off a goose quill ! Have faith, muddy 



24 

dear ; "The Stilus", aye, my magazine, "The Stilus", 
will make us nabobs yet. 

MRS. CLEMM. " The Stilus " ! I believe more in the 
hoe. You work too hard the wrong way, my son. 

POE. Work too hard ! No ; though I admit were I 
the builder of a world it is an element I would omit 
most cheerfully. 

VIRGINIA. {Rists and crosses to Poe.) We might 
be worse. 

POE. Hardly. Is this the casket for such a jewel ? 
You, Virginia, should have a palace, {He helps Virginia 
to chair L. of table) and you, dear mother, should have 
a farm, the best that wealth can buy. Perhaps, well, 
perhaps, I may yet find the rainbow's end and stumble 
on my pot of gold. 

MRS. CLEMM. Few get their deserts here, my boy. 

POE. {Pointing down.) True, most of us get them 
hereafter. 

VIRGINIA. It seems wrong that some men like our 
churlish neighbor down the road should have so much 
more than he can use and we so little. 

POE. {Leading her to conch.) There, there, my 
pretty, jealous little wife. Nature has her compensa- 
tions ; she divides her stores. 

VIRGINIA. {Sits on couch; complainingJy.) He 
is so rich. 

POE. Rich ! Yes, he has vulgar wealth, a civilized 
barbarian. His name draws the bolts of iron vaults and 
back swing the mighty doors ; huge jewels light his 
path by night and make the sun ashamed by day ; a 
retinue of men stand at his beck and call ; his carriage 
waits, and on his walls of tapestry hang pictures which 
fashion tells him to admire ! But; oh, my love, my 



25 

name upon the check book of my dreamhmd bank draws 
forth a wealth this world has never seen, a mighty haze 
of glory, cloud palaces and seraphim to wait on me, 
rivers of fire and the murky shores of Death, fiends, 
goblins, ghastly haunted ruins, — all men. — all things, 
jumbled in one black trembling chaos ! Skulls with 
hollow eyes— 

VIRGINIA. Edgar, Edgar, stop ! You frighten me ! 

POE. {Laughing with forced gay ety.) And will not 
Virginia join me in my fancy's palace? 'Tis the only 
one that I can build. 

A^IRGINIA. Love in a cottage would be more to my 
taste, my dear. 

POE. {Looking around^ half bitterly.) Well, we 
have it here. 

VIRGINIA. {Crosses to Poe C.) It is all my fault 
you have so much to bear. 

POE. {Emhracing her.) Why, Virginia, I had not 
realized half of life until I knew thee. Oh, what a reve- 
lation ! I, who swaggered with the youthful boast that 
I had tasted every cup, had not tasted one ! Love, the 
soul's guardian of perfect joy, I had not known. 

VIRGINIA. Then you never loved before i 

MRS. CLEMM. Stupid girl ! Have 1 not told you a 
thousand times, never let your husband know that you 
are jealous ! And, above all, never let him know that 
you love him too well. It ruins men. If wives would 
only reverse things a little, they would get more love. 
{^Poe leads Virginia to couch.) 

POE. {Crossing to table B.) Here is mutiny in 
camp ! Ha, ha, ha i Muddy dear has joined the enemy, 
{To Virginia.) Where are my " Stilus" letters, dear, 
and the prospectus? Have you seen them ? 



26 

yiRGrlNIA. I have them pat away. No, let me get 
them. I can do so little. {Poe smiles and humors her. 
She exits to room above.) 

POE. {Sees rejected manuscript on table wliicli Mrs. 
Clemm has placed tJtere.) You played truant yester- 
day, Muddy. You were in town to sell my verses ? 
(^She nods.) I would not have let you gone through the 
storm had I known it. {Smiling sadly.) You trudged 
the rounds and they all said " No " ? {She nods. ) Dear 
Muddy. {Kisses her fondly.) Do not let Virginia 
know. Erebus — 

EREBUS. {Enters with arms full of wood, some 
split.) Don' worry, marsa. I'll soon hab a little fire I'o' 
Miss Yirginiah. Boo ! Dis yah New York State ! 

POE. {Looking at him critically.) Where did you 
get the sticks, Erebus ? 

EREBUS. {Eoasively.) I'll soon hab a little fire dat 
will warm yo' heart. Mars' Edgah. Ha, ha, ha ! 

POE. There is no wood left on our place, Erebus. 

EREBUS. Ain't dar ? Ha, ha, ha ! 

POE. You know right well there is not. Answer me. 
Where did you get the wood ? 
EREBUS. I don' track it in de snow, Marsa. 
POE. {Amused.) Tracked it in the snow ! Where ? 

EREBUS. {A little anxiously.) Dat's 'tween de 
Lord an' me, Marsa. 
POE. {Sharply.) Erebus I 

EREBUS. Yo' wouldn't 'spec' Erebus, would yo', 
Marsa, long as yo'se knowed him ? 

POE. I'd only suspect you of too good a heart 
under your black skin, Erebus. {Rolls out MS. many 
feet in lengtli. Aside., reflect ioely.) I've had some 
days m3'self when I thought most anything was honest. 



27 

MRS. CLEMM. {Looking up. Erebus fixes small fire.') 
What have you there ? 

POB. {Arranging MS. at table R.) A few yards of 
my brains that go to the highest bidder. My stomach 
aspires to be the auctioneer. Jack Frost seems the only 
reliable patron of the poets. {Sleigh bells heard off M. 
gently., then gradually increase.) 

MRS. CLEMM. Are you going now ? 

POE. Yes, to town to fight the publishers, the 
rhymsters' delight. 

EREBUS. {Rising.) Let me go fo' yo', Marsa. 

POE. Not to day, Erebus. I don't want you to track 
anything more in the snow. 

EREBUS. 'Deed I'se hones', Marsa. 

POE. Of course, we're all honest — even poets. 

MRS. CLEMM. {To Poe.) Let me go, Edgar. You 
stay here and write and look after her. 

POE. {Aside to Mrs. Clemm.) I can look after her 
better, I hope, by going, and the trip is too hard for 
you. Someone is passing. I must hurry and steal a 
ride or trudge knee-deep in snow, and my sole has 
scarce the fortitude for that. {Stop bells. Music.) 
Hello ! He is stopping. He is coming in. Ah ! \En,- 
ter Tony, in big fur cloak carrying driving whip. He 
is covered with snow., which also blows in as the door 
opens.) Tony Pre.ston, as I live ! Well, this is a sur- 
prise. Come right in and— get warm. Tony! Tony! 

TONY. {Embracing Poe.) Edgar! And Muddy! 
Well ! Well ! {Embracing her. Comedy bcsiness.) 
Ha ! Ha ! And Erebus too ! Black as ever ! 

POE. But how in the world did you find us, Tony ? 

TONY. I stopped at the house of a friend a short dis- 
tance down the road and picked up two youngsters who 



28 

said they would show me the King's Bridg-e road. 
Much good they did me. 

POE, {LaugJiiiig.) Where are your youngsters ? 

TONY. I don't know. 

BOTH. Don't know! 

TONY. They ought to be in the sleigh. They started 
with me, that's all I know. 

MRS. CLEMM. {Running to window.) They must be 
cold. 

TONY. Not they ! They don't know its snowing. 
They are in love ! 

MRS. CLEMM. {At loindow.) Why, I can't see a 
thing in the sleigh but a big robe. 

POE. Did you expect to ? Erebus, tie the horses and 
send them in, 

EREBUS. Yes, Marsa. {Exit L. O.) 

POE. {Going to door and calling.) Virginia, Yir- 
ginia, come quick. Here is Tony ! 

VIRGINIA. {Entering, papers relating to the 
" Stilus " in lier hand.) Tony ! Oh, but it's good to 
see you ! {She kisses him ; Poe pretends annoyance.) 
Our old friend Tony ! 

TONY. {Laughing.) I beg your pardon. Some 
years have passed, but still your young friend Tony. 
But that's a digression ! Quite a family re-union, eh, 

Virginia {SJie coughs.) What are you doing? 

Playing sick? For shame! And Mrs. Cleram, — 
{Crosses to her and attempts to embrace her again. 
Gomed.y business.) How's Muddy, eh ? Looking the 
brightest an youngest of them all in spite of that 
dyspepsia ! I have come just in time to help you run 
the hospital. 

POE. {Brushing snow from door where it had blown 



29 

in.) You will be a tit subject for a hospital yourself if 
you don't restrain your arms and kisses in my family. 

VIRGrlNIA. {Laughing.) What a doctor you would 
make, Tony. Why, T begin to feel better already. 

POE. His father intended him for a doctor, but some 
how he never got his diploma. 

VIRGINIA. Never mind. I will give you a certiti- 
cate of good professional standing, for the sight of you 
has helped me more than all the medicine I have taken 
for weeks. {The door L. C. opens aud Erebus ushers 
in Carroll Brent and Marjary, looking oery sheepish. 
Their hair is considerably mussed.) 

TONY. Oh, here are my guides ! This is Mr. Car- 
roll Brent of Baltimore, who is visiting iny friend Miss 
Byrd, and this, — {Indicating Marjary, slyly) as I 
understand it, — is Mr. Brent's friend, — Miss Marjary — 
hem 

CARROLL. A neighbor — a recently arrived neighbor. 

TONY. {Winking t» Foe.) Yes, a neighbor — a very 
near neighbor. 

POE. {Greeting them.') We are glad to know you and 
thank you for showing Mr. Preston the way. 

MARJARY. {With a languishing look at Curroll.) 
You must thank Mr. Brent. I am a newcomer too and 
don't know the roads hereabout, but Mr. Brent knows 
everything. 

VIRGrlNIA. {Smiling.) How fortunate for you. 

MARJARY. {Dropping her eyes.) lama fortunate 
girl. 

MRS. CLEMM. {Leading them near the stove lohere 
there is a very small fire.) I fear you are cold. 

MARJARY. {Scarcely able to keep her eyes off Car- 



30 

roll during the wliole visit and vice versa.) Oh, not in 
the least. 

CARROLL. Oh, not a bit cold. 

TONY. Oh, not a bit cold, I am sure. They sat to- 
gether on the back seat. 

BOTH. {Indignant.) Oh, Mr. Preston. 

POE. {To Tony.) And you and Merry Whiskey 
drove? {Generallaugh.) 

MRS. CLEMM. Here are some chairs. {She places 
two straight-back chairs near the fire. Carroll and 
Marjary sit in. a stiff and awkward, manner close to- 
gether, and Mrs, Clemm tries to entertain them, hut 
soon finds it hopeless.) 

POE. {Coming down L. C. Tony R. C.) It is good to 
see you again, old fellow. It sends us back to the days 
when bouyant youth sent hope coursing through our 
veins. Come, throw off your cloak and stay a while. 
Courtesy is blind with joy. 

TONY. {Eoasively.) Thank you, I will keep it on. I 
am a little chilly from riding, if my friends are not. It 
is bitter out to-day. 

POE. I forgot. You will be more comfortable with 
it on. 

TONY. {Aside to Poe.) Edgar, let me speak plainly 
to you. Why did you not let me know that you were 
in trouble, — I must say it, — in want? I would have 
come at once ; you know it. 

POE. {Proudly.) There is nothing that I need. ( Vir- 
ginia coughs.) , 

TONY. And is there nothing that she needs ? Ah, 
dear friend, this is not the time for pride. Bad luck ! 
The cards have been against yoii. You must let me 
help you, Edgar; and, when the game is yours, why 
you can repay the bank. Willis' words in the "Home 



31 

Journal " about your suffering have brought me post- 
haste from Richmond. 

POE. They were false. He is 

TONY. Your friend. 

POE. {Controlling himself with di^culty.) You are 
right, Tony ! You are riglit. For her sake, yes. But 
one more chance. 1 will go to the city with you and 
try to coin this last expenditure of a weary brain. {In- 
dicating MS.) If I fail, you may help — Virginia ; and 
God will bless you for it. I have sometimes thought I 
had no friends. 

TONY. When foolish pride shuts the door upon 
them. 

VIRGINIA. {Sitting on couch L.) What are you 
talking about over there? You are not a bit polite. 
We have visitors. 

TONY. Hem. Yes. {Glancing at Carroll and Mar- 
jnry, crossing to Virginia.) The doctors are holding 
a consultation, Virginia. 

VIRGINIA. Nonsense ! Last night I dreamed I 
would live a hundred years. Shall I not, mother ? 

MRS. CLEMM. I hope so, child. 

TONY. Here, let me feel your "pult." as old Doc. 
Mixum down home used to say. {Poe crosses back of 
sofa ; kneels hy Virginia, who half reclines.) 

VIRGINIA. {To Tony.) Ha, ha, ha ! Yoa cannot 
find it. You are a remarkable doctor. 

TONY. Well, T can hold your hand and prescribe. 

POE. I like that. 

VIRGINIA. So do I. You must promise not to give 
me bad medicine. 

TON Y. Bad medicine k Wait until you taste it. I 
begin to feel ill myself when I think of it. Do not 
fear, I will join you, dose for dose. 



32 

FOE. Then you propose a liquid diet. 
VIRGINIA. What is it, Tony, come ? 

TONY. {Yery gravely.) I prescribe— a big re-union 
' dinner, well cooked, slowly eaten and— to use the homely 
but expressive phrase -well washed down. 
VIRGINIA. You have not changed a bit, Tony. 

TONY. Changed ! You can't improve us angels, 
Virginia. But that's another digression. I'm on earth 
to teach you mortals how to cook. {Crossing to Mrs. 
Clerum, pointedly.) 

MRS. CLEMM. That's the first time I ever heard of 
an angel cook; and, as for men, I never saw the man 
yet who could cook. Mr. Clemm, Heaven rest his soul, 
thought he could, but — ugh ! {Shudders. All laugh.) 

VIRGlr^IA. A big dinner would kill me. I cannot 
eat. 

TONY. {E. C.) Yes, but you must. That is what I 
prescribe to all my patients, with a good drink to top 
it off. It cures ttiera all. Edgar and I will go to the 
city and bring back the dinner, and cook it too. 
{Pointedly again to Mrs. Glemm, who again shudders.) 

POE. {Grosses to Tony.) I'm with you, Tony. It; 
shall be seasoned with jokes and spiced with jests and 
liquified with laughter. Why, this is glorious, Tony. 
This is a lark for our Richmond days. Virginia and 
Muddy shall join us in our revel. It shall be a Bacchan- 
alian feast. We will set up " Little Love " as the God 
of Joy, and he shall pour the wine ; and for one short 
hour time shall be as nothing. 

TONY. Virginia and Muddy shall eat, eat, eat, noth- 
ing but eat. Oh, it will cure you. {Crossing to Vir- 
ginia.) 

MRS. CLEMM. Or kill her. 



33 

POE. {Crossing to Mrs. Glemm.) Mother is skeptical 
about yonr cooking. 

MRS. CLEMM. I should think I was. Unless Tony 
has changed materially, he mixes his dinners better than 
he cooks them. 

TON Y. Well, sometimes I do drink more than I drink 
other times— 

POE. But never less. {General laugh.) 

VIRGINIA. Don't you ever suffer from remorse, 
Tony ? 

POE. Remorse is born of a bad stomach, not a good 
conscience. Tony is safe both ways. 

TONY. Why, one of my dinners cures everything. 
It cures 

POE. {Tnterrtipting him.) Peace, peace, peace! Keep 
its remaining virtues till after we have dined. {Goes 
up ; gets cloak from peg R.) 

TONY. Very well ; you shall be the judge. Oh-re-vo, 
as the French say. Keep a brave heart, and, mother 
Clemm, we will cure that dyspepsia, as sure as — - 

MRS. CLEMM. Go along with you. {Tony laughs; 
goes up to door L. C.) 

POE. We will not bo long behind one of Tony's 
horses, if he does not tip us out in the snow. 

MRS. CLEMM. The devil looks after his own. 

VIRGINIA. It is cruel to drive your horses so fast, 
Tony. 

TONY, Cruel ! I drive them fast in winter to keep 
them warm. Is not that kind ? 

POE. And you drive them fast in summer to keep 
them cool. 

TONY. Isn't that thoughtful, too? I am the best 
whip this side of the Rockies. Hurry, Edgar ; we must 



34 

be off. {Starts to go ; sees Carroll and Marjary.) Oh, 
I am forgetting something. Hem ! I am ready. ( TJiey 
are so absorbed in eacJi other they do not hear.) I am 
ready ! Mr. Brent, Miss Marjary ! 

BOTH. {Staging up.) Oh ! {They start to go.) 

VIRGINIA. We are glad you called. 

BOTH. Thanks ! We have enjoyed our visit. 

CARROLL. {At door.) The front seat or the back 
seat ? 

TONY {Seriously.) The back seat, please. 

BOTH. Oh, yes. {Exeunt Carroll and Marjary. 
General laughter.) 

TONY. 

Ten thousand hearts are beating 
By the wild and boisterous sea ; 

Ten thousand hearts are beating. 
But not one heart for me ! 

Oh, I must tell yon before we go. What do you 
think ! I saw Pelham at the Astor House. 

POE. {Getting hat.) Mr. Roscoe Pelham, A. M., of 
Virginia ? 

TONY. Even he. 

VIRGINIA. {Pretending interest.) My old admirer! 
I had almost forgotten him. 

POE. {Pretending jealousy.) I have not forgotten 
him. He always had that benign look of one who con- 
tinually smells something disagreeable. 

TONY. Yes, one of those lovable men who hates you 
if you don't hate everyone whom he hates. Boo ! Pel- 
ham would freeze the ocean in mid-summer. He never 
liked me much. 

POE. And you never liked him much. 

TONY. No, my dog wouMn't make friends with him. 



35 

Never trust a man your dog does not like. Some aunt 
left him a little money, they say, with which he has 
become quite a politician in Baltimore. You should 
have seen him to-day. His waistcoat was a marvel of 
elegance, his stock superb ; and he walked the office 
with an important air, his eyes fixed up there some- 
where on vacancy. {Foe. and Tony near door^ L. C. 
Looking at Virginia.) We'll bring him back with us. 

VIRGINIA. Yes, do. 

POE. If he comes, I will cook bis dinner. {General 
laugh. Poe takes the old military cloak from ;p eg.) 

TONY. Put on your cloak and wrap up warm. It's 
freezing out. Here, let me help you. 

POE. Hush ! ( Wraps cloak about Yirgiuia on couch, 
instead of putting it on.) Good-bye, sweetheart, good- 
bye. 

VIRGINIA. You must take your cloak. Edgar. 

POE. {Eoasively.) I do not need it. 

MRS. CLEMM. {Rises, and goes up to window.) 
Yes, you must, Eddie. 

POE. Tony has one for me in the sleigh. (Tony is 
about to speak; Poe gioes him a look ; C.) Hush! 
Keep your heart warm, sweet girl. {Music. Aside to 
Tony at door.) Why am I haunted with these dark 
presentiments ? Is it not enough that I suffer once, 
without living a life of fear and dread ? Ah, Tony, will 
she leave me when the baby buds are laughing at flying 
Winter, or fall like the autumn leaves, red as the even- 
ing glow of promise? The Raven croaks! {To Vir- 
ginia.) A little while, Virginia, only a little while. 
{Kisses her. Exits after Tony L. C.) 

MRS. CLEMM {At window). Well, that Tony is a 
rascal. He has led Edgar into such scrapes. I reckon 
they are all right, but I do not believe in these pranks 
myself. 



36 

* VIRGINIA. {Rising.) His heart is in the right place, 
mother. {Sleigh bells.) 

MRS. CLEMM. {At window.) There they go like the 
wind. Hear the merry bells. Why, they are taking 
Erebus. 

VlRGrlNIA. To the village store no doubt for wood. 
{Crosses to window.) Oh, how I wish I could snowball 
them. {Sleigh bellsdie away.) 

MRS. CLEMM. What are you doing here, child? 
{Helps Virginia downto couch L.) You will never get 
well. There is a terrible draught around this window. 
You must lie down and try to keep warm until Edgar 
returns. ( Virginia coughs oiolently .) There, you are 
coughing again. What did I tell you ? {Goes to cup- 
board.) And the cough mixture is gone. What shall I 
do? Why didn't I think of it? {Runs to window.) 
They are out of hearing. I will go to the store mj^selF. 
It will not take long. 

VIRGINIA. No, no. 

MRS. CLEMM. I will be back in a few minutes. Will 
you want anything, Virginia? 

VIRGINIA. (A little ddirious.) No, mother. But it 
is too bad for you to go. {Exit Mrs. (Jlemm.) She is 
gone. Mother ! Mother ! Oh, how I dread to be left 
alone — alone, even for a minute. I cannot- understand 
it. They watch me so. I am not sick, — that is, not very 
sick ; and then ray dream, was it not sweet ? I dreamed 
that I would live a hundred years. How funny it will 
be to see the world and all my friends grown old. To 
see dear Edgar with white hair and brow chiselled with 
wrinkles, and Muddy hunting for the spectacles she 
says she will never wear. Ha, ha, ha ! But, would 
they live a hundred years too ? No, no, I would be 
alone ! The very thought is horrible. No, we shall all 



37 

live a hundred years, all, all. How cold it is ! (A 
JcnocJi. Music.) Why does she knock? Come in. 
Muddy. 

PELHAM. {Eidering door L. C.) This is what I call 
a cold reception. So, this is the domicile of the great 
poet, the father of rhymes, jingles and riddles. {Com- 
ing down R.) I would rather sell cabbages and buy a 
stove. Boo ! 

VIRGINIA. Who's there? A stranger ! 

PELHAM. Pardon the instrusion, but is this the 
winter domicile of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe, the exalted 
poet ? 

VIRGINIA. This is Mr. Poe's home, sir, but he 
is— Why, Mr. Pelham ! 

PELHAM. {Starting.) Virginia Clemm ! 

VIRGINIA. Virginia Poe. I have not seen you for 
so long that I scarcely knew you. 

PELHAM. {Advancing C.) Yes, separation has made 
me what inclination never has, and never vpill— a 
stranger. 

VIRGINIA. That is kind. Draw up a chair. Excuse 
my rising ; I nm uot quite myself to-day. 

PELHAM. And this is the pretty bright-eyed laugh- 
ing girl that married the handsomest man in Richmond 
and sought her fortunes in the North, — envied by every 
Southern beauty. 

VIRGINIA. I married the dearest man in all the 
world, Mr. Pelham. 

PELHAM. Of course, the dearest — 
VIRGINIA. {Uneasily.) Yoa find me changed ? 
PELHAM. Not at all The same flush of health and 
pride is in your cheek. Time and the Muses have been 
good to you. Your husband's name is on the lips of 



.38 

all the world. Yoii must be very happy — very liappy — 
he is so good to you. 

VIRGINIA. I am happy. {Nervously.) It is kind 
of you to call. I hope you are well and prosperous. I 
love to hear all our friends are so. You have moved to 
Baltimore, I hear, and deserted Richmond, dear old 
Richmond, where I first met Edgar. 

PELHAM. And where you left so many friend^ to 
mourn your loss, not to say envy your bright fortunes. 

VIRGINIA. {Evading reply.) Many changes since 
then. Mr. Allan has passed away. Alas, he never un- 
derstood Edgar. 

PELHAM. His second wife and little ones enjoy the 
old home now. 

VIRGINIA. They will never know how much until 
they lose it. 

PELHAM. I could buy the place myself these days. 
You might have been mistress there had you not found 
a better man. 

VIRGINIA. {Rising.) Mr. Pelham ! 

PELHAM. I prophesied his greatness. 

VIRGINIA. {Anxiously.) I must call my husband. 
He will be glad to see you. 

PELHAM. {Putting chair aside.) Your husband, 
passed me on the Kings Bridge road, but he did not 
bow, no, he did not bow. 

VIRGINIA. {Suspiciously.) He did not see you, 
then. 

PELHAM. I fear he has forgotten his old friends in 
his days of prosperity. 

VIRGINIA. He was never like that, Mr. Pelham. 

PELHAM. I bought a volume of the poet's verse to- 
day in town. I thought it would be a sign of respecta- 



.39 

bility on my poor shelves and — and perhaps contribute 
a trifle to— 

VIRGINIA. Mr. Pelham- 

PELHAM. Well, report led me to believe that the 
purchase might not be ungratefully received ; but I am 
glad to note that I can contribute nothing to your hap- 
piness or comfort. 

VIRGINIA. {Controlling Tier self with difficulty.) 
Nothing. I thank you for your call. 

PELHAM. It was a pleasure I could not forego. 
VIRGINIA. {Standing xoith difficulty.) Good day, 
Mr. Pelham. 

PELHAM {Surprised, but covers it quickly.) Good 
day — Miss— Mrs. Poe. {After a little effort he moves 
toward door. Virginia coughs. He turns. She sways 
as if to fall. He returns and takes her hand.) Ah, 
Viiginia! Virginia! 

VIRGINIA, {Coughs. Makes an effort to cross him., 
hut sways backward. He supports her in his arms.) 
No, no, you must iiot. Edgar ! Edgar ! 

PELHAM. Save your strength. Let me help you. I 
fear he will not come. 

VIRGINIA. {Coughing violently.) He will! He 
will ! Edgar ! Edgar ! {Enter Poe, Toni/, Mrs. Clemm 
and Erebus. Pelham crosses to R. corner.) 

POE. Ah, What was that cry ? My God ! Virginia ! 
Pelham! What is the matter, love? {Catches Vir- 
ginia in his arms.) 

VIRGINIA. I knew you would come. I knew you 
would come. 

POE. 'Twas fate that broke the sleigh and sent us 
back. {To Pelham.) What does this mean ? 

PELHAM. {Suavely.) 1 called to pay my respects, 
Mr. Poe, and found your wife in this sad state. 



40 

POE. Speak, girl, what is it ? You are safe — dearest ! 

VIRGINIA. {Coughing and subbing.) Oh, Edgar, 
Edgar ! 

POE. Poor child. Help me. Tony. Erebus ! Some 
brandy — quick! {Tony produces Jiask. Music.) 

VIRGINIA. Hush ! {Aside to Tony loho assists her 
while Poe and Erebus prepare brandy.) If Edgar 
learns the truth, he will fight, and, perhaps be killed. 
No, no, no ! {Laughs hysterically.) It is all right, 
Edgar, Mr. Pelham was only calling. I was faint and 
he caught me — from falling. He has been very kind to 
me. Saj^ it is all right. You will not blame Mr. Pelham, 
will you ? 1 was wild and sick, but I am quite well now. 
Oh, I am so glad you came. {Laughs.) We will have 
such a merry time, a re-union dinner ! Tony shall sit 
on one side of me and Edgar on the other. ( Tries to 
rise.) Such a merry time as we will have. {Sings ;) 

Then quick ! we have but a second, 
Fill round the cup, while you may 
For time, the churl hath beckoned 



Oh! {Coughs violently, falls back on sofa, dead.) 

POE. Virginia ! Lenore ! Speak to me. Ah, the 
bolt has fallen — dead, dead, dead ! 

(CURTAIK.) 



41 

TABLEAU. 

The Writing of " The Raven." - 
Between Acts II and III. 

Poe discovered icriting at old table C. Manuscripts 
on table and floor. Lights on Poe. Dark surroundings. 
The poet is writing fiercely at rise of curtain. He then 
gathers up his manuscript and reads and recites the 
more dramatic verses of " The Raven,'' ^ as if he desired 
to knoio what he Jiadjust written. 

This scene should be worked behind, a screen, like the 
dream scene in " The Bells.'''' See Dor d' s illustrations, 
etc., in working back ground effects to enhance Poe^ s act- 
ing. Virginia appears in a vision as Lenore, and the 
Raven in shadow is revealed sitting upon a bust of 
Pallas above a faintly outlined door. These effects 
should be produced with lights, au,d a mirror or other 
mechanical device, as if they had arisen in Poe^s 
fancy out of the darkness. One small candle on the 
table furnishes an excuse for the light which is 
thrown upon the poet. Music throughout. Dark 
change to Act III.) 



42 
ACT III. 

Scene I. : Parlor in Helen Whitman^ s country house 
near Fordham. Handsome appointments. Large double 
window R. 3. Garden to back window. Mantle piece 
and mirror R. '2. Door R. 1 E. ; door L. 1, E. Cnrtained 
Entrance G. Piano and stool L. 3. Table and two 
chairs L. Medalion on table. Large book on table. 
Candles on table, lighted. Ornaments and lamp 
(lighted) on piano. Enter Marjary stealthily. 

MARJAHY. {Entering and looking out windoio. 
Calls., softly.) Carroll! CiarroU! Why, its Parson Prime, 
to see Cousin Helen. Why does he come ? Nobody is 
waiting for him. {Knock.) Oh, dear, he'll ask all about 
my Sabbath School lesson, and I — 1 can't think of any- 
thing but Carroll. Where's the Bible ? {Takes up large 
black book wnconsciously. Tries to read intently as she 
answers door R. 1.) 

PARSON. {Entering.) Thank you, my dear, thank 
you. 

MARJARY. {Looking up demurely.) Oh, Parson 
Prime, is it you ? I was so absorbed. 

PARSON. Very commendable, my dear. Pious in- 
dustry is the greatest of virtues. 
MARJARY. Yes, Parson. 

PARSON. And what were you reading in the Grood 
Book? 

MARJARY. I — I was looking for Solomon and his 
wives. 

PARSON. Solomon and his wives? A rather serious 
text, my child. 

MARJARY. {Confused.) Yes,— well— I wanted to 
see if any of them eloped — that is, — do you think it 
wicked to elope. Parson ? All mj' family have eloped. 



43 

PARSON. {Smilmg.) To be sure I do. Very 
wicked. Heaven keep such nonsense from your pretty 
head. {TaMng hook froitn her.') Why, this is not the 
Good Book ! 

MARJARY. Oh, dear, isn't it, Parson Prime? 
{Aside.) I can't see anything but Carroll. 

PARSON. {SJiaTcing Ms finger good-naturedly at 
lier.) Is your Cousin Helen in ? 

MARJARY. Yes, Parson Prime ; I'll call her. 

Parson. Nay, nay, don't disturb her poetical re- 
flections. Just bring the basket of provisions she 
promised for poor Miss Honeygood. I told her I would 
call for it. 

MARJARY. Yes, Parson Prime. {Exit L. 1 E.) 

PARSON. How my parish is lately blessed. Miss 

Whitman, a poetess, — a philantrophist {Enter Mar - 

jafy L. 1 E. loith basket of promsions.) Is this the 
basket, my dear ? 

MARJARY. Yes, Parson Prime ; and here is a little 
purse. I heard Cousin Helen say she was sure the Par- 
son could put it where it would do most good. 

PARSON. So I can, my dear, so I can. {Quite un- 
covsciously places purse in Ms own pocket.) She 
will receive her reward in heaven. 

MARJARY. {Looking uneasily at clock and win- 
dow.) Must you go so soon. Parson ? 

PARSON. Not a moment to stay, my dear. Miss 
Honeygood needs my constant visitation and prayers. 
This will be so welcome to the dear good sister. And 
then my Sabbath sermon is still incomplete, my dear. 
I must brush it up a little to-night. {Grossing to M.) 

MARJARY. {Innocently.) If you are so very busy, 
Parson, couldn't you — couldn't you make it a little 
shorter next Sunday ? 



44 

PARSON. My dear child. I never neglect my flock, 
never. Did you place the little bottle of port in the 
basket? Miss Honeygood is very weak, poor soal. 
{Looks under napkin.) 

MARJAR-Y. Oh, yes, Parson Prime, two bottles. 
Take care ; the basket's very heavy. There's enough 
to last her a week. 

PARSON. Ah, your cousin's sweet charity! My 
compliments to her. Emulate her, emulate her, my 
dear. {Exit R. 1 E. Marjary closes door and, crosses 
to L. and. sits.) 

MARJARY. It's a wonder to me what the poor of 
this neighborhood did before cousin Helen came. 
{Heads letter.) 

''My Own Dear Marjary: Meet me in the lane to- 
night by Miss Honeygood' s, if I do not see you before. 
I have so much to tell you. 

From yours now and for always. You know !" 

I know ! I have so much to tell him, I can't remem- 
ber it. {Noise. She hides letter.) 

HELEN. {Enters through portieres C, reading., 
dressed in white. She is quite a contrast in character 
to Virginia, though strangely suggestive of her in 
face and Ugure. Helen is poetical, brilliant, dashing 
at times, a cultured, woman of the world. Virginia 
was sweet and sympathetic. Helen dresses in the 
height of fashion. Virginia was simply gowned in 
Act I and poorly clad in Act II.) Surely someone 
crossed the veranda. {Calls.) Marjary, who was here 
just now ? 

MARJARY. It was the Parson. 

HELEN. Oh, has Dr. Prime been here ? 

MARJARY. Yes, and gone. Cousin Helen. I gave 
him the basket and the purse. Cousin Helen ? 

HELEN. Well, Marjary. 



45 

MARJARY. Cousin Helen — do you think— do yon 
think it quite right to marry ? 

HELEJSr. {Laughing.) Right to marry ! Of course, 
I do — holy — but at the proper age and time and place, 
sweet youthful cousin. 

MARJARY. And what is the proper age and time 
and place, dear Cousin Helen ? 

HELEN. Why, when the man loves the girl so very 
much that he cannot help but marry her ; and when 
the girl loves the man so very much that she can no 
longer help but marry him, then 'tis the time and right- 
ful age to marry. 

MARJARY. And the proper place, dearest cousin ; 
you forget to name the place ? 

HELEN. When you reach the proper age and time, 
the place is highly proper. 

MARJARY. {Sighs.) Thank you, dearest cousin. 
Goodnight. 

HELEN. {Smiles and kisses Marjary.) Good night, 
Marjary, and pleasant dre;ims. 

MARJARY. Good night. {Aside.) I can no longer 
help but marry. {Exit L. IE.) 

HELEN. Her little heart begins to flutter. I would 
her cousin's heart were as bubbling o'er with sunshine. 
Dear child, she has not lived to see her ideals shattered. 
I am sorry I missed the Parson. I feel so strangely 
restless to-night that a few minutes discourse with that 
good man might have quieted me. {Sits on couch R., 
reading.) 

" Tell this soul with sorrow laden 
If, within the distant Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden 
Whom the angels call Lenore — 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden 
Whom the angels name Lenore." 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 



46 

{Musing.) Lenore ! Who and what isLenore? {Throws 
book aside.) This is the hundredth time to-ni^ht I've 
asked myself that question. Oh, would I could dismiss 
"The Raven " from my mind as easily as I toss the 
book from me. {Rises and crosses to table; takes up 
picture.) Edgar Poe ! I remember when I first saw 
your miniature ; 'twas with an indifferent, careless eye ; 
but now, the more I gaze the more enrapt I am. To 
know and commune with such a soul would be for me 
Elisium. Here is a man capable of that higher love 
that jjoets attribute only to women. If the picture is 
so beautifully sad, what must the man be. {Laughs.) 
Oh, Helen, Helen, Helen ! For shame ! (Goes to piano; 
plays several strains.) Even music has lost its charm 
for me, and the waltz sounds funereal. The notes 
break like the wail of the sea on some barren rock. 
{Rises ; goes to whidoio.) How is the night? A fairy- 
land ! What a moon ! I'll take a stroll, and yet tlie 
neighbors annoy me so. When I wander forth at night, 
they are thunderstruck with wonder. Simple folk, 
they know no better. There's more in one breath of 
night for me than in all the breezes of a livelong day 
for them. {Throvis loJiite lace shaiolover her head and 
starts for windrow.) A step on the path at this hour? I 
trust there is no visitor. I am in no mood to be enter- 
taining to-night. A stranger advancing quickly ! Why, 
how curiously he acts, how wildly he stares. {Momng 
towards L. ^, calls.) Marjary ! Marjary ! 

TOXY. {Appears at window R 3). Virginia ! 
HELEN. Sir! 

TONY. Virginia! {Enters French window.) 
HELEN. I beg your pardou, sir. What do you 
want and who are you ? 

TONY. Y"es — well— but — you must pardon me. A 



47 

miracle ! You are the living image of a dear friend of 
mine. 

HELEN. Indeed ! 

TONY. Her image. 

HELEN. Her suggestion, possibly. 

TONY. Ob, speak again— the same sweet voice— her 
voice. 

HELEN. I have heard of doubles in romance, sir, 
but have never till now put any faith in them. 

TONY. Pardon me, I can scarcely master myself. It 
is all so strange. It will pass in a moment. I am not 
often frightened, madam, but — the moonlight — the 
hour— and the suddenness — once more, pardon me. 

HELEN. Be seated. 

TONY. {SUs B.). She was so beautiful. Her hus- 
band nearly lost his mind with grief. 

HELEN. Her husband ! 

TONY. Understand me, madam, her husband and I 
are brothers in all but blood. 

HELEN. I appreciate your sympathy and regret I 
gave you i)ain unconsciously. What can I do to help 
you? 

TONY. I had almost forgotten my triHing mission. 
I wish to find — to find — {Ta/ces out note and reads.) 
Find Miss Helen Whitman — Helen Whitman. 

HELEN, That is my name. {Tony rises. ^ 

TONY. Indeed, I should have known ! I am Tony 
Preston, on my way to town from your neighbor's — I 
believe Miss Byrd is our mutual friend — and at her re- 
quest, I merely stopped to leave this note. • 

HELEN. Oh, indeed, from Dorothy ? (7'a/5:e5 note.) 
Thank you, you are welcome. 

TONY. And as my errand brought me up the path. 



48 

your face was at the window, and — you see, I had just 
passed the lonely spot where we laid her to rest nearly 
two years ago. 

. HELEN. By the path? I've seen the place. It is the 
shortest way to Dorothy's house. I like to stroll there 
myself ; for I do not fear the dead — only the living. 
Pardon me. {Reads.) 

" Dear Helen: — Carroll received word to-day from 
my agent, Mr. Pelham. of Baltimore, in regard to our 
investments there by his good advice. I trust him im- 
plicity. I cannot get out, so I am making a conven- 
ience of my fiiend, Mr. Preston, who just called and is 
returning to town. Come to me, Dorothy Byrd.'' 
{Rises.) 

TONY. I hope I am not the bearer of ill news, 
madam ? 

HELEN. A business note merely. A very good rea- 
son for a stroll to Dorothy's for a chat with her to- 
night. I thank you for your trouble. Won't you step 
into the drawing room ? I'll order refreshments. 

TONY. I assure you, it is not my way to refuse the 
good things of life, but I have not the time to-night. 
{Starts to go; then stops.) I mast ask you again to 
pardon my strange deportment, but you are so like 
Virginia Poe. 

HELEN. Virginia Poe! Virginia Poe! Notthepoet'5 
w^ife ? 

TONY. Yes. she that was. 

PELBN. Virginia Po^ ! It is a name that casts a 
spell over me. I had just laid down " The Raven " as 
you entered. {Crosses to R.) 

TONY. Indeed 

HELEN. {Sits R.) I have many friends in common 



.49 

with the poet, but it has never been my good fortune to 
look upon his face. 

TONY. I remember now, though I did not know you 
had moved into the neighborhood. Helen Whitman is 
a name often on his lips. 

HELEN. I am glad to hear that. We have corres- 
ponded on several occasions, and I hear he has hallowed 
some of my poor verses by speaking well of them. 

TONY. He admires jour writings exceedingly, 
madam. 

HELEN. How good of him. 

TONY. You are almost the living image of his de- 
parted wife, though, now I look more closely, the hair 
and eyes are lighter, but the lirst impression is the 
same. {Goes up.) 

HELEN. Strange ! I have not been told of this 
before ! 

TONY. No, Virginia was an invalid for years, and 
many of his friends had never seen her. 

HELEN. I am sorry you have to go so soon. 

TONY. To tell the truth, I am anxious for Poe to- 
night. He left me in town early this morning, and I 
have not seen him since. It may be foolish, but we are 
all that way sometimes — and — I am very fond of Edgar. 
Good evening, Miss Wl)itman. (Crosses to R. 1.) 

HELEN. Good evening, Mr. Preston. 

TONY^. Good evening. {Exit R. 1 E. Music.) 

HELEN. {Thinking aloud.) His wife, whom he 
loved so tenderly ; and I look like her. I wonder if he 
would think so ? And if he did — Pshaw ! {Goes to 
toindow R. 0.) E'en the crickets and the whippoorwills 
are hushed to night, and the owls are strangely silent. 
There is something mysterious in the air. Legend 



60 

says that the stars are but peep-holes cut from the floor 
of Heaven by curious Gods to watch us mortals through, 
and that the azure bits cut therefrom fell to earth and 
made the violets. I trust 'tis but a fable ; for there's 
something sprung unbidden in my heart tonight I 
would e'en keep from Heaven's eye. I look like her, 
and he loved her — lie loved her — {Goes out by loindow 
dreamily^ as the scene closes.) 

ACT III. 

Scene II : A country lane by High Bridge near 
Miss Honey good'' s. Night. The moon is partly ob- 
scured by clouds during this scene. Enter Carroll 
Brent cautiously. 

CARROLL. {Enter R. IE.) Marjary ! Marjary ! 
Marjary ! I wish she would come. {LooTcs off L.^ 
anxiously.) 

MARJARY. {Outside L. J E.) Carroll, Carroll, is 
that you ? 

CARROLL. Of course, it is. Who else could it be? 

MARJARY. {Entering cautiously L. 1 E.) Oh, 
Carroll ! Did you see ? Did you see ? 

CARROLL. See what ? 

MARJARY. Something in white, moving among the 
trees, — like a spirit ! 

CARROLL. {Frightened.) There are no such things 
as spirits, Marjary. 

MARJARY. I tell you I saw it. And Old Aunt 
Betty told me that there are spirits. Oh, see there, 
again, through the trees, Carroll. 

CARROLL. Where? 

MARJARY. I can't see it now. I wish I were home, 
I wish I were home. 



51 

CARROLL. {Close to her.) Don't be afraid, Mar- 
jary. 

MARJARY. I am not so much afraid when von are 
with me, Carroll. 

CARROLL. Then you are not afraid to be with me 
always ? 

MARJARY. Not afraid. 

CARROLL. Then you will marry me, and come to 
ni}^ home in Baltimore ? 

MARJARY. I'll marry you at the proper age and 
time and place, dear Carroll. 

CARROLL. And what is the proper age and time and 
place-, dear Marjary ? 

MARJARY. 1 thought perhaps you'd know. {They 
embrace.) 

CARROLL. I do — it's now— at once. It will be such 
fun. We'll run away and come back and tell them all 
about it. 

MARJARY. Run away ! Elope ! Impossible ! We 
have no horse, Carroll, dear. 

CARROLL. And why a horse ? 

MARJORY. We could not elope without a horse. 
None of my family ever did. 

CARROLL. {LaugJiing.) But where would I get a 
horse this hour of night, Marjary ? 

MARJARY. Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall we do ? 
It's no use to reason with you. It would be no elope- 
ment at all. It would ruin my family reputation. 
Grandmamma eloped on a pillion behind grandpapa. 
They had a banquet, a duel— swords ! I often heard 
my mother tell of it before she died. Grandpapa came 
into the ball room like a hero in a book, took grandmam- 
ma from the arms of his rival, whom he wounded with his 



52 

sword, and away tliey went in the moonlight on a 
gallop ! {Proudly.) Oh, I have a family with skele- 
tons in its closet, Carroll dear. 

CARROLL. And your dear mother, Marjary, did she 
elope, too ? 

MARJARY. To be sure she did. All my family. 
Mamma eloped with a coach and four. 

CARROLL. A coach and four ! That was royal. 

MARJARY. And my great-grandmamma had ahorse, 
too ! No one ever heard of eloping in any other way. 
{Very coiifidcntiallii .) Only — you musn't tell, Carroll* 
— for we only speak of it in the immediate family circle. 
Great grandmamma eloped with the butcher's boy. He 
borrowed the butcher's horse. 

CARROLL. Didn't anyone ever elope on foot, Mar- 
jary, dear ? 

MARJARY. Not that I ever heard of. It would be 
so foolish to elope that way. 

CARROLL. If we can t do any better, perhaps we 
might be foolish this time. 

MARJARY. Perhaps. {They embrace.) 

PARSON. {Noise. Marjary and, Carroll stand close 
together anxiously R. G. Enter Parson Prime from 
Miss Honey good'' s cottage L. C.) Good night. Miss 
Honey good. I trust the morning will find you brighter. 

MARJARY. {To Carroll.) It's Parson Prime ! 

PARSON. {Seeing them in the shadoio.) What is it, 
friends ? You surely are not afraid joi me. 

CARROLL. We — we were only 

MARJARY. Yes— we were only — Parson Prime 

PARSON. Why, Marjary, is it you? What brings 
you here ? Is some one ill at home ? You,r cousin ? 

MARJARY. No, Parson Prime. 



5:3 

PARSON. Some poor soul requires my prayers ? 

MARJARY. Not yonr prayers, Parson. 

PARSON. What is it, child? What has hap- 
pened ? 

MARJARY. Ask Carroll. 

CARROLL. Ask Marjary. 

PARSON. Oh, ho, I see. But have you contem- 
plated the seriousness of your step, my children ? Have 
you fully weighed its gravities ? 

MARJARY. Oh, yes, all its gravities. Parson. 

PARSON. And what says the dear Miss Whitman ? 

MARJARY. Well, we haven't had time to ask her. 

PARSON. No time to ask her ? 

MAKJARY. No, Parson Prime. You see 1 only 
just made up my mind. 

CARROLL. Yes, Parson, she only just made up her 
mind. 

PARSON. {Laughing.') When would you have the 
ceremony performed ? 

MARJARY. Is it necessary to put it off. Parson ? 
CARROLL. To-night ? Why not to-night, Marjary ? 

PARSON. To-night ! 

MARJARY. It is nearly to-morrow already, Parson. 

PARSON. Nay, nay, my children. There is a time 
and place for all good things. Back to your homes. 
The moonlit lanes and secret walks are places only in 
which to whisper love. Let your happy thoughts be 
runaways; your eager hearts elope in joyous expecta- 
tion ; but wed with proclamation bells and witnesses, 
that all may see the happiness and sanctity of the mar- 
riage scene and read in another love-ruled home an- 
other omen of a peaceful, prosperous State. To-mor- 
row, we will catechise your hearts ; if they are true and 



54 

things are fitting, far be it from me to say you nay. 
{Gar roll and Marjary embrace.) Tut! Tut! You are 
not wedded yet. Home, home ; reflect and pray. 
■ MARJARY. Good night, Parson Prime. 

CARROLL. Gfood night, Parson Prime. 

PARSON. Good night, my children. Heaven bless 
you both and make you wiser. ( Exeunt Carroll and 
Marjary, L. 1 E.) 

PARSON. {Looking after them.) Oh, youth, youth ! 
How can old hearts sit in judgment on young hearts' 
follies ? How can the evening judge the morning of the 
day? Hush! {Church clock tolls midnight.) The 
clock strikes the very hour that forty years ago this old 
heart was gladdened by a softly spoken vow. Ah ! 
to-morrow shall witness your nuptials, children, if lean 
consummate it. I'll overtake them. {Exit after them, 
L. 1 E.) 

ACT in. 

Scene 3. Graveyard at midnight. Church and par- 
sonage off. Bright moonlight. Tomb C. Flowers, 
etc. An open grave near tomb. Grate-digger'' s tools 
near open grave, among which is a knife. City lights 
in distance across fiver. Enter Poe, cloaked. Music. 

What a night ! The sky rains stars. Aurora darts 
her streams of silvery light in shafts till lost in heavenly 
ether. What does this day in night portend ? Is it to 
light me on my way? Out, ye twinkling orbs and 
scinder of a moon ! I have found this path when na- 
ture's shroud of snow mantled the earth. I have found 
it when the darkness gathered and the midnight storm 
uprooted trees and made the people tremble ; and think 
ye I need thy rays to point my path to-night ? {At 
tomb.) Ah, here lies all the earth — the Lenore of my 



55 

brain, the Virginia of my heart. Where art thou, 
child ? All here. Come, speak to me. Ah, can this 
coverlet of flowers wei<?h thee down and hide thy face, 
or their sweet odor drug thee for a little dream ? Oh, 
man, what do I here? (Bises.) Awake! Have I 
naught but idle words to cast upon the grave of her I 
love ? Why came I here ? To join thee, prettj^ one. 
Hush! Whose voice was that ? 'Twas but the wind, 
self- weary like myself. Fool, coward, fancy's slave ! 
Virginia did not fear to go, and she had naught but 
simple faith to guide her steps. I am armed with 
philosphy, worlds of philosophy, and yet I pause. 
What is it rises unbidden to my lips? A prayer my 
mother taught me. Why comes it at such a time and 
such a place out of the past ? I just recall it. Ah, that 
baby-prayer shall be the a^ant-cour i er of my wretched 
soul and bear the tidings of my coming to Virginia. 
{Kneels at tomb, 'praying. Enter Parson., Marjary 
and Carroll, L., 2 E.) 

PARSON". This way. Leave it all to me. Hush ! 

POE. Is the Day of Judgment come, and these the 
first to answer to their names ? 

PARSON. Whence came that cry? It is Sorrow's 
own. 

POE. Who and what are ye that invade this scared 
place ? 

PARSON. Friends, who, mortal like, missed their 
path, but still have faith the eye of God is on them. 

CARROLL. Where are we, sir ? 

POE. In the grave-yard. Can you not see ? ' 

PARSON. What do you here at such an hotir? 

POE The better part of me dwells here. {Aside.) 
God gives the earth to such as these and takes Virginia. 



56 

PARSON. {Aside to Carroll and Marjary.) He is 
some deranged man. Fear not, friend. 

POE. Fear ! My soul is seamed and scarred. I have 
writhed in the toils of every fanged and hissing monster 
that feeds upon the weary brain, and you talk to me 
of fear. 

PARSON. Life has made you bitter. It grieves me 
to leave you, brother, so unreconciled ; but we intrude. 
Come, friends. {Exeunt Parson^ Marjary and Car- 
roll L. '2 E. Music. ) 

POE. How little some times stays the ship in port. 
It is growing late, and here I linger on life's bleak shore 
alone, and listen to the mocking winds, wafted from the 
great and unknown deep. We must slip the anchor and 
take to the open sea or be mangled on the reefs. There's 
no alternative. What's this? {Stumbles over tools left 
hy grave-digger.) A grave-digger's knife! E'en 
Heaven sends a toy of destruction to spur on tardy 
purpose. Friend, thou hast forgotten the best thing 
in life, the means of leaving it. Lie there, thou 
rusty steel, and help some poorer beggar o'er the stile. 
I would welcome thee, were I not better provided. 
{Places knife on tomb and takes a oial of poison from 
his pocket.) This is the la^t friend of whom Edgar Poe 
will ask a favor. {Sees city lights tuoinkling in dis- 
tance and laughs mockingly.') Farewell, farewell, thou 
selfish, sleeping world ! I have no tears for thee at 
parting. Rob, murder and satiate thy greed for gold; 
hew down the forests ; seine the seas of every pearl ; 
kill the last warbling bird and living thing ; pillage the 
hidden vaults of Mother Earth ; then wrangle for thine 
ill-gotten gains. {Laughs hysterically.) Thou art 
right ! Let notliing live ! And then, when thou hast 
translated Beauty itito Filth, made Art a Wanton, 
laughed at Truth, and broken Justice's image. Heaven's 



57 

best gift to man, come then> oh, World, to this sweet, 
secluded spot beneath the trees, to the neglected grave 
of Edgar Poe, the hapless poet ; for he has found what 
thou hast not, the mystery of peace. Read in the 
daisies that grow over him of one, who. weary of life's 
shadows, was cradled to eternal rest in the arms of his 
Lenore. {Enter Helen R. 1 E. Crosses slowly to 
L. 1 E. Blue calcium on her.) Farewell, oh, World, 
farewell ! I drink my last, sweet draught to thee ! 
{Places vial to his lips. Sees Helen.) Yirginia ! {He 
drops vial and falls back on tomb, overcome by the 
vision.) 

(cURTAITSr.) 



58 

ACT IV. 

ScEKE : A dilapidated garret in Baltimore in 3. 
Street hacking in I/., showing roofs. Small gable win- 
dow L. C. Windoio R., corner showing outside stairs 
and. platform. Doors L. 3 and L. 1. Fireplace R. 2. 
Old trunk up R. ope7i, loith manuscripts strewn about. 
Manuscripts and, papers cover table L. Old candle 
stick and candle on table. Cot up L. Table up R.^ 
with biickei and gourd dipper. Chair down R., old 
and rickety. Everything very old and pomrty-stricken 
Small Bible on table up R. Enter Erebus., loith 
old-fashioned iron-bound bucket filled with water. 

EREBUS. {Talking to Jams elf after the fasldon of 
the negro. ^ ^Deed I wish dis yer water 'ud run up hill. 
{Knock L. 1.) Dat's dat polertician woman 'bout de 
rent. Poor white trash ! I wouldn't dirty my bands 
wid her, but I owes her money. I didn't tell Mars' 
Ed^ah 'bout dat. He ain't right nohow , deed he ain't. 
Erebus, your ole Marsa's possessed. {Opens door.) 

MRS. PIDGEON. {Enters L. 1 E. Crosses towards 
table L. She speaks with Southern accent and drawl.) 
Keep me waitin', would you, in my own house ? Better 
I)ay your rent before you put on airs . 

EREBUS. 'Deed, Missus, dat rent don' split my 
memory 'tirely. 'Deed, I'll pay. 

MRS. PIDGEON. I leckon you will or go into the 
street, you lazy good-for-nothin'. {Sits L.) Who is 
this man you brought home with you without your 
landlady's askin' ? I haven't got a good look at him, 
but my William has. 

EREBUS. {C.) Dat's Mars' Edgah. 

MRS. PIDGEON. Your master ! You told me you 
were a free nigger. 



59 

EREBUS. {Going towards table R.) Mars' Edgali 
done freed me long years ago, Missus. 

MRS. PIDGEON. Wasn't worth your keeping, eh ? 
{Rises, advances towards trunk.) What's all this lit- 
ter? (About to touch manuscripts.) 

EREBUS. {Greatly excited.) Don' yo' touch dat, 
Missus ; don' yo' touch dat ? 

MRS. PIDGEON. {Starts bacTc frightened.) Lord a 
Mercy, what is it, man ? 

EREBUS. Dat's Mars' Edgah's writin's. 

MRS. PIDGEON. Diat the nigger ! I thought it was 
gunpowder. Writin's, eh? {Pushes Erebus aside and 
crosses to trunk.) A nice mess of writin's these are 
anyway. {Kneels; looks over MSS.; throws some 
about. ) 

EREBUS. {L. of her; doion stage.) Does dey tell 
what's de matter wid Mars' Edgah ? 

MRS. PIDGEON. Hear that ignorance! {TJirows 
MSS. aside ; rises ; goes to Erebus.) Why don't he 
sell his writin's ? 

EREBUS. Dar ain't nobody wid brains 'nuff to buy 
'em, Missus, dat's why. 

MRS. PIDGEON. Rubbish ! If my rent ain't paid 
by to-night, when my William gets home from 'lec- 
tin' Major Pelham'to Congress, out you go. Mars' Edgah, 
writin's and all ! Do you acquiesce in the notice to 
vacate ? 

EREBUS. {Woefully.) Will dar be fo'ce used, 
Missus ? 

MRS. PIDGEON. Yes, there'll be force used. 

EREBUS. {Thoughtfully.) Den I acquiesces. 

MRS. PIDGEON. {Loud cheers in the street below., 
she goes to window.) Hear the 'lectioneerin'. Hurrah 



60 

for William ! Htirrali for Pelliam ! A free nigger I 
Bah I {Exit L. 1 E. Voice dies in distance.) 

EREBUS. {Sighs.) I certainly is sorry to see her go. 
I'se powerful weary ob dis life. Dis 'sponsibility ob 
minglin' wid society's killin' me. I can cook fo' dem, 
open de do' an' black de shoes ; but I can't do dis en- 
tertainin'. Fo' God, I'se becomin' de shadow ob my 
old self. {Noise outside, runs to window.) What's 
dat crowd doin' ? Dey's fightin' in de entry-way. No. 
It's Mars' Edgah ! He looks pale as de dead. Dey's 
followin' him half-way up de stairs — Marsa ! Marsa ! 
{Opens door C.) 

POE. {Entering/ C, talking to crowd on stairs 
below. He is badly broken in appearance and is visibly 
under the influence of drugs and liquor which Jiaoe 
affected his reason rather than intoxicated him.) In- 
solent street beggars ! This is Richmond ! I reckon I 
know Richmond — every stone in Richmond ! {Coming 
down C.) They did not treat me so when I lived here. 
They did not dare — the cowards. I was young then ; 
but now I have lived an eternity. It cannot be far. 
How everything has changed. Courage, I am nearly 
home. I feel I am nearly home. Oh, I cannot stand. 
My head ! Help ! Help ! I must get home. Oh ! 
{Sinks on floor by chair C. Jeering and laughter 
outside on stairs below. Looking into space. Erebus 
tries to help him.) Even the children and the dogs 
have forgotten me. {Faintly.) Mr. Allan? 

EREBUS. Mars' Allan ! 

POE. Everyone in Richmond knows Mr. Allan, 

EREBUS. Richmond ! Dis am Baltimore, Marsa. 

POE. He is just like the rest. 

POE. Thank you, boy. He's 'most asleep. Dead 
tired, {Knock. Erebus opens door C.) Mars' Tony ! 



61 

TONY. {Surprised.) Erebus, you here ! It is true 
then. They told me such a man entered here, hatless 
and hagoard, perhaps dying. 

EREBUS. {Poivting to Poe.) He's dar, Mars' Tony. 

TONY. Edgar ! found, found ! My God ! Go for 
help — quick ! No, here. We must get him to the 
hospital. That will be better. Come, Edgar. {liaises 
him gently. They mone toioards door. Erebus on Poe" s 
L.) Come, it is all right, now. I am Tony Don't 
you know Tony ? You will be taken care of now, dear 
fellow. {Leading him slowly towards G.) 

POE. The boy ? 

EREBUS. I'm here, marsa. {TaTtes Poe' s left hand.) 

POE. How far is home ? 

TONY. {R. of Poe.) Not far, not far. This way, 
Edgar, this way. 

POE. {Breaks from Mm.) You would deceive me 
again, would you ? You would cage Edgar Allan Poe 
again ! No, no. {Laughs.) I have seen too many of 
your tricks. Come, boy. Come. {To Tony.) Go your 
way and I'll go mine. Teach me the way in Richmond. 
Teach me — come, boy, come ! {Moves haughtily 
towards L. with Erebus, who looks anxiously at Tony 
for help. ) 

TONY. This is heart-rending. Edgar, I am Tony, 
your old friend, Tony. 

POE. That is what they told me before. They were 
my old friends. They patted me on the back, and we 
toasted the old times, and drove in a cab and I voted, 
and we laughed and sang, and they took me somewhere, 
and the door was bolted and I could not get out — I do 
not remember. {Arm about Erebus.) 

TONY. Edgar, listen to me. 



62 

POE. Boy, you are my only friend now. The flowers 
are growing over all the rest. Yon shall share my old 
room with me, and shall be great some day. I will show 
you the way, my boy, the way where I failed. 

TONY. Must I look on this, the bitter penalty of 
genius ? Edgar, look at me. 

POE. How cold it is. {Kneels.) The fire is out. 
There are only asHes on the hearth. See, boy, see, those 
pictures hanging there are father and mother. You 
must know them, boy. And this, hanging just as I 
left it by the open window — that's Virginia. I hung it 
there myself. {Melody ready in street below.) 

TONY. The tears are trickling down my cheeks. 

POE. And I am home at last. 

TONY {Supporting him.) Yes, yes, your old room, 
Edgar. {Aside to Erehus.) We must humor him until 
he will go with us. 

POE {Rising.) Strange, I cannot remember. Every- 
thing is confused. Home, home, home ! {Negroes pass- 
ing helow in street sing melody which dies in distance. 
It greatly excites Poe and raises his spirits. He goes 
to window, speaks gayly, feverishly, hut wildly.) Do 
you hear, do you hear ! the plantation song ! It is 
nightfall and they are coming from the fields. They 
shall have a good supper for that song. But where' s 
Virginia, Virginia ? {Crosses to Tony R. Sits on chair. 
Tony moves hack of him. Erehus on Foe's left.) 
Call Virginia ! 

TONY. {Aside to Erebus:) Would I could. 

POE. Boy, go call Virginia. 

EREBUS. I would not know her now, Marsa. 

POE. Would you not know an angel, boy ? 

TONY. {Leading Erebus to C.) Yes, I will show 



63 

you the way. {Aside to Erebus.) Get a carriage at 
once. Hnsli ! {Exit Erehus C.) 

POE. {On couch.) How fragrant are the jessamine 
tiowers ! The}' are all in bloom to welcome me. 

TONY. {Advances to Poe, kneels by liim.) Edgar ! 
Edgar! Don't you remember me? Try. Try. 

FOE. Tony! Tony! Tony! 

TONY. Thank God ! Thank God ! Thank God ! 

POE. We have been friends a long, long time, Tony. 
Where is Virginia ? Strange, she does not come, the 
little truant. 

TONY. {Standing back of Poe on Ids left.) You 
will see her very soon, very soon. 

POE. Ah, I forgot the signal — the signal ! Where's 
the window, Tony? My eyes are dim yet. [Tries to 
rise ; falls back.) Oh, I cannot 

TONY. What is it, Edgar ? 

POE. My kerchief — wave it, wave it ! 

TONY. If it will give you any happiness. 

POE. 1\\(ive— {Music) there, the other window, Tony. 
Higher ; she cannot see you. She is watching and 
waiting, I know. She will meet me at the cross-roads ; 
then we will stroll together through the woods, and I 
will pick the wild flowers for her ; and the violets will 
tell her of my love. She comes, she comes. {Rises and 
crosses to C.) See, Tony, as beautiful as the Dawn ! 
Virginia ! Virginia ! Virginia ! Where have you been, 
'Virginia! I thought you would never come. No, no, 
not my Virginia, not my Lenore ; I am deceived again. 
It's the other face, the other face ! 

TONY. Oh, if Helen Whitman were only here now — 

POE. {Affected, and brought more to himself at the 
mention (f her name.) Hush ! Don't speak her name, 
if you love me, Tony. 



64 

TONY, But she is here in Baltimore with Marjary 
and Carroll. She seeks everywhere for you. 
POE. Poor soul. She followed me then. 

TONY. Edgar ! She will help you as she has helped 
you for weeks by her companionship and love. I have 
seen it. You have been like one inspired with new life 
since you met that night — 

POE. That night! Iknow— Iknow- 
TONY. Rumor whispers you are engaged to wed — 
that happiness and health await you in her love. Your 
friends rejoice. 
POE. {Sarcastically.) Rumor always knows. 

TONY. Come with me, Edgar, to Marjary's. Do 
not let her find you here in such surroundings. 

POE. It is my home, sir. 

TONY. There, there. We know. Come with me. 
She will nurse you back to life and love. Why did you 
leave her in the hour of your happiness. It was cruel. 

POE. I cannot talk of this, Tony, even to you. I 
shall never see Helen Whitman again. Never ! It is 
best, best — believe me it is best. {Exit L. 3, leaving 
Tony ) 

EREBUS. {Entering C.) Mars' Tony, de carriage ! 

TONY. Yes, yes. He is in there. Look after him. 
Let no one see him until I return with the doctor. He 
would not go with us. 

EREBUS. Yes, Mars' Tony. {Exit L. 3 E.) 
TONY. I have had many dark days, but none so 
black as this. {Exits C.) 

PELHAM. {Entering L. IE., followed by Pidgeon 
and Carroll.) The latter goes up to the window C. and 
looks out.) Much as a man's life is worth to climb such 
stairs. Is this where he lives ? 



65 

PIDGEON. This the place, Gov'nor. 

PELHAM. (Seeing Erebus re-enter at noise and close 
door anxiously behind him.) Here is someone now. 
Ah, is Poe in ? 

EREBUS. {Aside^ Mars' Pelham ! Who says Mars' 
Poe live yah, sah ? 

PIDGEON . I do, and I ought to know the lodgers in 
my own house. 

EREBUS. 'Deed, Mars' Pelham 

PELHAM. You know me ? 

EREBUS. Yes, Marsa. Don' yo' know me, sah ? I'se 
Mr. Erebus. 

PELHAM. Mr. Erebus of Hades ? 

EREBUS. No, sah. Mr. Erebus of Richmon', sah. 

PELHAM. (Tb Pidgeon.) Is this the only room ? 

PIDGEON. This is Poe's. The ni2:ger sleeps in there 
under the eaves. {Pointing to room where Poe has 
gone. ) 

EREBUS. {Trying to guard door.) Yes, Marsa, — 
we — I — has two rooms, excusin' de parlor downstairs. 

PELHAM. Be still. 

EREBUS. Yes, sah. 

PIDGEON. Get out ! 

EREBUS. Yes, sah. {Exit L. 3 E. and shuts 
door. ) 

PELHAM. What did you say they did with him ? 
Tell me again. 

PIDGEON. Nineteen of them drugged — voted in 
every ward 

PELHAM. Yes, yes. But where did he go ? After — 
after 

PIDGEON. They turned him loose with the rest- 
about done fqr — thanks to your friends 



66 

PELHAM. {Conscience stricken.) Don't say that. 

PIDGEON. I won't say it aloud, Gov'nor— voted 
eleven times. He'll never peach. On his last legs when 
We got him. 

PELHAM. If he dies it was not through my orders. 
Do you understand ? It was not through my orders. 
By Heaven, I knew nothing of it. 

PIDGEON. Yes, Gov'nor. 

PELHAM. It only happened to torment me. Here, 
get a drink for yourself while I wait to see — to see — if 
he comes. {Offers money.') 

PIDGEOM. This won't satisfy my constituency, 
Gov'nor. You know Dolly's down stairs waiting for me. 

PELHAM. {Impatiently.) I got you both work at 
the hospital. What more do you want ? 

PIDGEO-N. Well, you see as how I promised Dolly a 
little something on the 'lection. It don't pay for a man 
to lie to his wife, Gov'nor. Women remembers too 
long. {Cheers helow in street.) 

PELHAM. What's that? 

NEWSBOY. {Outside, helow.) Papah ! Even' papah ! 
Papah ! Even' papah ! Full 'count of Major Pelham's 
defeat for Congress ! • 

PELHAM. My God ! That too ! 

CARROLL. Did you hear. Governor? The election 
has gone against us. 

PELHAM, It all seems like retribution. 

PIDGEON. {Following Pelham to C) We are beat ; 
I say we are beat. 

PELHAM. I hear you. 

PIDGEON. Well, what do I get out of it ? 

PELHAM. What do you expect, fool ? {Crossing L.) 
We are beaten and there's an end of it. 



67 

PIDGEON. You didn't say that way yesterday, 
Gov' nor. Yon said as how William Pidgeon was the 
greatest i^ollertician vote-catcher in the business and 
how there was rewards. 

PELHAM. That was yesterday. You are one day 
behind the times. 

PIDGEON. You can't crawl that way, Gov'nor. 

PELHAM. See! {Cheers outside. Goes to window.) 
What's that fire down the street ; something is burning ? 

CARROLL. It looks like you in effigy, Governor. 

PIDGEON. I reckon the people want you to get 
used to fire. 

PELHAM. {Ooming down R.) Curse them. Come, 
Carroll. I can't wait here any longer. I am not well — 
come — 

PIDGEON. See here, Gov'nor, I am not as young as 
I look ; you know I works pollertics by the job, win or 
lose. 

PELHAM. I tell you, if there is nothing for me, there 
is nothing for you. 

PIDGEON. {Catching his coat sleeve.) I reckon 
there is, though. How about my lodger and the 
" coop" that you didn't know about but your friends 
did? 

PELHAM. Silence, sir ! I will allow no one to re- 
flect upon my innocence in that. 

CARROLL. There is someone coming up the stairs 
now. Governor. 

PIDGEON. Ten to one its the blackhaired, sickly- 
looking chap that talks to himself and says as how he's 
in Richmond. 

PELHAM. Yes, yes. But how can I look into those 
great eyes ! Remain below until I join you. {Pidgeon 



68 

and Carroll exeunt L. IE.) Ke lives — he lives — and I 
have not that on my conscience. Ah, this way, Mr. 
Poe ; you are a better climber than I. {Opens door C. 
Enter Helen.) Madam! I was not looking for you — 
here. 
HELEN. No? 

PELHAM. {Recovering himself.) Pardon the bou- 
doir ; the drawing room is occupied. The parlors are in 
the hands of the decorators. It is a trifle gloomy, but 
this is what the poets call a " gray day" at home. 

HELEN. {Agliast at the surroundings.) I was told 
Mr. Poe lived here. 

PELHAM. Don't be disappointed; it's all the way 
you look at things, madam. Is not this an airy castle ? 
You must expect a poet to dwell among the clouds. 
{He goes up toward windoio G.) Look, yonder are the 
roofs and steeples. 

HELEN. The great poet reduced to this ? It cannot 
be, Mr. Pelham. {Crosses to Erehus, who enters L. 3.) 
Erebus. {Aside) He sleeps. Ah, does Mr. Poe live — I 
mean, come here ? 

EREBUS. Yes, Miss Yirginiah ! {Pelham comes 
down to back of table L.) 

BOTH. Virginia ! 

EREBUS. You'se Miss Yirginiah on earth de secon' 
time, sure as Erebus has eyes ; else you'se de spit image 
ob her. 

HELEN. De spit image ! {Smiling.) Another wit- 
ness of my former advent, Mr. Pelham. I begin to 
think I am Yirginia, [Aside, crossing to L.) 1 long 
so much to take her place in Edgar's heart. {At corner, 
looking about the room.) A garret, a garret, and so 
great a mind. {To Erebus. She speaks across without 
moving from L.) See if your master is coming. 



69 

EREBUS. Yes, Missus. (As/de.) I'll see if Mars' 
Tony is comin' first. {£JxU C.) 

HELEN". {Aside, going i/p and over to L. C, hy win- 
doio.) I can scarcely wait ; yet how I dread tlie meet- 
ing. 

PELHAM. {Down to chair B., watcMng her in- 
tently.') I trust you are cured, madam. 

HELEN {At window C) Cured, sir? Of what? 
{Lauahs sadly.) You know I am a poetess; and a 
writer of verse, I fear, is seldom cured of anything. 

PELHAM. {Advances towards her, loith chair. Rests 
one knte on its seat.) Believe me, he is unworthy of 
you. {Turns chair ; leans on its hack, facing Helen, 
xoho advances towards him.) Don't be angry, madam. 
For your own sake, let not romance mislead you, be- 
cause, on a moonlight night, a twelvemonth past, it was 
your mission to stay the hand of death. 

HELEN. You followed me. 

PELHAM. Hardly, madam. This world is not large 
enough to hold a woman's secret. My secretary, Car- 
roll Brent, told me. 

HELEN. {Crossing to L.) Oh ! 

PELHAM. My duty as ycmr adviser makes me speak 
what I had otherwise rather die than utter of so old a 
friend. My repeated efforts for his good have been 
without avail. Fate, it seems, has placed the poet's 
destiny in your hands. You should know the responsi- 
bility and the danger. 

HELEN". My confidence seems deeper set than 
yours. 

PELHAM. And your acquaintance shorter. There is 
a serpent ready to devour you both, — called Drink ! 

HELEN. {Rises.) That serpent lies dead. 

PELHAM. {Rises.) I hoped so. 



70 

HELEN. {Crossing R.) I know so. I hold Ms 
promise, sir. 

PELHAM. {Throws cliair aside lack of table L. 
Crosses doion R.) His promise. 

HELEN". I am warned by so-called friends like you 
till I am heart sick. He has given me pledges. I be- 
lieve him, sir. 

PELHAM. {Crossing hacTc to her.) And 1 believe — 
my eyes. 

HELEN". Your insinuations are unkind. I will hear 
no more. {Starts to go R.) 

PELHAM. {Stopping her.) I am speaking of last 
night. 

HELEN. Last night? 

PELHAM. Our poet has made good use of his short 
stay in town, I assure you, madam. {Crosses to C, 
then calls.) Erebus ! Erebus ! 

EREBUS. {Enters ) Yes, sah ; yes, sah ; I'se yah. 

PELHAM. {Ironically.) Ask his i^alet.^ if you will 
not believe me. 

HELEN. {Reprovingly.) Mr. Pelham ! 

PELHAM. His reply I presume would not be pleas- 
ant. 

HELEN. I am not in the habit of questioning the ser- 
vants of my friends. 

PELHAM. Unfortunately, I cannot be so punctilious 
where the interests of my client are concerned, madam. 
{To Erebus^ who crosses to C. Pelham down R.) Did 
you go for your master last night ? 

EREBUS. Yes, sah. 

PELHAM. Where did you find him ? 

EREBUS. Ifoun' him {Catches Pelhar/i's eye.) 

— don' 'member, sah. 



71 

PELHAM. ril awaken your memory. Answer me or 
I'll liave you whipped. {It begins to rain gently.) 
HELEN. Mr. Pelham ! 

PELHAM. Pardon. Was he not at the tavern, with 
my— with the politicians, intoxicated, when you found 
him ? 

EKEBUS. No, sah ; Mars' Edgah was not 'toxicated. 
I nebber see Mars' Edgah 'toxicated. (Aside.) I 
wouldn't tell on Mars' Edgah if he kill me. {Crossing 
to B.) 

HELEN. {Triumphantly.) You do not progress well, 
Mr. Pelham. 

PELHAM He has not been sworn yet. A nigger is 
afraid to swear to a lie. {Takes a small Bible from 
table up R.) 

HELEN. It would be well if all white men had that 
scruple. 

PELHAM. {Angrily. Forgetting himself.) Come 
here. Put your black hand on the Scripture and swear 
your master was not drunk. {Helen has her back one- 
half to Pelham, looking off R.) 

POE. {Enters L. ^ E., ragged and death-like, but 
still proud as a prince.) The master will answer for 
himself. {Coming do/on.) In this world, no tribunal has 
jurisdiction o'er the private life of Edgar Poe but his 
own conscience ; in the next, his God ! 

PELHAM. {Taking Bible from Erebus.) "Judge 
not that ye be not judged " is such a well worn word 
of this Book, sir, that even you should have thumbed 
it. 

HELEN. {Crossing to Poe.) Edgar! 

POE. {Sees her for the first time.) Helen ! You 
here ! {Helen goes up C. and^ over to L. C.) 



72 

PELHAM. {Advancing a little toioards Poe. Suavely 
insulting.) Oh, joy, joy ! you live ; you live ! My old 
Mend Edgar Poe of Riclimond ! They told me your 
eye was bleared ; your step infirm ; your cheek sunken ; 
your once buoyant carriage gone forever. 'Tis false. 
Thank Grod, I have the ocular proof, 'tis false. From 
this moment, sir, believe me your champion to confront 
rumor with her own lies. My duty to my Party calls 
me. (Poe crosses to table L. Pelham moves toward 
door C.) The storm is gathering. Marjary will be 
anxious about you, madam. I am ready to show you 
to your coach. 

HELEN. {Coming down 0.) Thank you, I will not 
trouble you further, Mr. Pelham. 

PELHAM. I do not understand. 

HELEN. I have business with Mr. Poe. 

MR. PELHAM. You surely do not intend — Pardon 
me, but — What will scandal say if I leave you here un- 
protected and alone ? 

HELEN. Scandal ! You see that little hoop of gold? 
It is the betrothal ring of honest souls, placed upon my 
finger with holiest affiance-vows by Edgar Poe. 

POE. {At table. Aside.) God forgive me. 

PELHAM. Pardon, a thousand pardons, madam. I 
did not think it had gone so far. My congratulations ; 
may every happiness attend your coming union. 

POE. Erebus, see this gentleman safely out. We 
regret that he must depart so soon. 

PELHAM. Thank you. I can find the way quite 
well alone. I bid you a good afternoon, my friends. 
{£Jxit C, followed by Erebus. Helen moves towards 
B. a few steps.) 

POE. {Looking after Pelham.) How I pity such a 
man ; to fall below contempt is to fall very low indeed. 



73 

HELEN". {Turns toioards Poe ivithout advancing.) 
Edgar, do not mind his insults. 

POE. It is not that, it is not that, which gnaws my 
heart. Pardon, pardon my discourtesy. I have grown 
so thoughtless of late. Did my valet not offer you a 
chair ? Erebus, what do you mean ? Bring the lady — 
Erebus? Permit me, madam. {Brings broken chair. 
Places it oner towards R. and returns to L. O.) Be 
seated. 

HELEN". {Leaning against cliair.) Heaven support 
me. I was not prepared for this. 

POE. Erebus ! Erebus ! I say, bring the lady some 
refreshments. She has travelled far. Some wine and 
cakes, Erebus. "We honor ourselves in honoring our 
fair guest. Erebus, some wine ! {Goes up to table H. 
Helen crosses to table L. Poe taJces up empty decanter. 
Aside.) I forgot. Times have changed for me. lam 
no longer the prodigal son at home. {Fills glass with 
water from gourd-dipper.) Ah, here is one drink left, 
the most priceless of them all. Even the tattered, vaga- 
bond, by lifting a refreshing draught from the wayside 
stream, in this, can play mine host most royally. It 
comes from the hillside. It is as pure as Mother Earth. 
Honor me, madam, in God's own beverage. {Down to 
Helen L. C. Proudly.) 

HELEN. {Takes glass ; places it on table.) No, no, 
Edgar. Oh, what has happened to you, dearest ? 
Your eyes are so sad and distant. What is it, love ? 
If I am not to be your confidant, then I should not be 
your wife. {Takes Poe'' s hand.) It is my happiness to 
divide your cares. You tremble but do not answer, 
Edgar. "Yonr silence chills my very heart. Has your 
love grown cold and does some other passion now fill 
your breast ? 



74 

POE. Yes, yes, that is it. A passion that will de- 
vour us both. You have heard but now the words of 
your friend, — my friend ; for God's sake heed his warn- 
ing, heed his warning. {Totters to cliaii' R. Sits.) 

HELEN. {Crossing to Mm; stands hy 7iim.) Yoa 
are trifling. Why did you leave me so ? You filled me 
with every hope. You told me, in words such as angels 
only can speak, how you loved me. And when I 
breathed accordant answer to you vows, lo, you were 
gone ; and I had naught but idle tears to till the place 
of love. 

POE. {Seated, distractedly.) 

" It was a July midnight 

Clad all in white upon a violet bank 

I saw thee 

And thou a ghost, amid the entombing trees 
Didn't glide away. Only thine eyes remained. 
They would not go — They never yet have gone." 

HELEN". {Kneels by him.) All this, and still you 
fled from me, Edgar ! 

POE. My promise. I could not look into your sweet 
face, it was so like hers. I could not deceive you about 
myself and so I fled, fled, fled. {Rises and crosses to 
table L. Leans on it. Helen rises.) 

HELEN. {Crosses to C.) The ways of Heaven are 
manifold. God made me in her image for a purpose, 
Edgar. I believe that purpose was to save you from 
yourself. 

POE. Save me ! For what ? More hours of wretched 
poverty — I mean — . {Advances to her C.) I — I — am 
unworthy of your interest, Helen. I fled from you to 
save you, not myself. I am past redemption. Oh, why 
did you follow me here ? 

HELEN. {Takes his hand.) Because I love you, 
Edgar, and love alone can save you, Edgar, as the lesser 



75 

passion is lost and smothered in the greater. Trust in 
love, dear ; it has saved the world. 

POE. I brought wretchedness to one soul who trustad 
me. I cannot to another and live. Look about you. 
Is this the home to ask a wife to share — a poet's gar- 
ret ? Ah, is there no escape from it all ; no refuge from 
myself ? {Lightning and thunder. He starts as if to 
hurl himself from window. Lightning half hlinds 
Mm. ) 

HELEN. {Screams, crosses to L. and up to Poe. She 
puts her hand- on his shoulder to restrain him.) Edgar, 
for love of Heaven, what would you do ? {Bells in dis- 
tant steeple ring a merry chime. Poe listens.) 

POE. Hush, the bells, bells, bells, bells ! They laugh 
at the storm without and the storm within. Would I 
were made like them. I would laugh as well. 

HELEN. " Hear the mellow wedding bells, 
Grolden bells, 
What a world of happiness their harmony 
foretells." 
An omen, Edgar, an omen ! They ring out hope for 
you and hope for me. An omen, love ! {Kisses his 
hand. Thunder ; distant roll. ) 

POE. {Bfills change and toll in distant steeple. 
Helen goes slowly douon to table L.) 
" Hear the tolling of the bells — 

Iron bells — 
What a world of solemn thought their monody com- 
pels." 
An omen, yes ! The wedding march and then the 
funeral dirge. A merry omen, truly. I would reverse 
the order to perfect joy. The tolling first. {Thunder ; 
another distant roll.) Hark, you hear the roar of the 
maelstrom ! Flee, flee, from me, Helen, as you would 



76 

from death ! {Low crash.) It comes, it comes, it 
comes — for me ! 

HELEN. What, Edgar ? 

POE. Don't you hear the ominous flapping of its 
wings ? 

HELEN". {Goes to him). It is the storm distracts you, 
Edgar. There is no soul here but you and I. 

POE. It has no soul ; it is a demon, the demon of my 
blighted life! It's curse is written. {Thunder and 
lightning. ) 

HELEN. Edgar I ( Turns head away, covering her 
eyes, hut does not move from Poe. During the follow- 
ing speech the lightning occasionally forms an outline 
over the window of a raven sitting on a hust of Pallas 
and fading away with the flashes.) 

POE. See, see, where it has perched upon the bust of 
Pallas ; it's basilisk ej^'es pierce into my very soul. Last 
night, it tempted me to follow it ; it led me to a tavern 
black as the nether hell, and, pointing to a cauldron, 
bade me, "Drink" ! As I approached to do so, the 
darkness lifted and there stood God's Angel ! A halo 
of light encircled her ; she spoke to me, and the tears 
coursed down my cheeks. I strove to whisper "Vir- 
ginia ", but my tongue clove to my mouth. I tried to 
stretch my arms to her, but, my limbs refused their 
office ; and so she passed away. 

" Prophet ! I said," " thing of evil, ! 
Prophet still, if bird or devil ! — 
By that Heaven that bends above us — 
By that God we both adore-- 
Tell this soul with sorrow laden 
If, within the distant Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden 
Whom the angels name Lenore — 



77 

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden 
Whom the angels name Lenore." 
{Crash of tJiunder.) Nevermore, nevermore, never- 
more ! 

HELEN. Edgar! 

POE. Oh! I am "a thing, a nameless thing o'er 
which the raven flaps his funeral wing !" Lord help my 
poor soul. {Falls dead C.) 

HELEN. {Kneeling by Mm.) Edgar, Edgar!. I un- 
derstand it now. It was the memory he loved, not me. 

(CURTAIN.) 

{Picture : Tony^ Marjary and Erebus at door. Helen 
raises hand to them significantly.) 



eOPYRIBHT 
APR 11 1904 

OFFICE 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





015 905 83 P I f 




